C.RICH'DWHLTTEMQRE 
Rare  Books 

ASHLAND,    MASS. 


THE 


YOUNG  MAN  FROM  HOME. 


BY   JOHN    ANGELL    JAMES. 


<l  Thou,  God,  seeBt  me.'—  Gen.  16  :  13. 

"  In  all  thy  ways  acknowledge  him,  and  he  shall  direct  thy 
paths."— Prov.  3  :  6. 

41  Wilt  thou  not  from  this  time  cry  unto  me,  My  Father,  thoa 
art  the  guide  of  my  youth?" — Jer.  3  :  4. 


PUBLISHED   BY 

THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

150  Nassau-street,  New-York. 

D.  Fanihaw,  Printer* 


CONTENTS, 


Page. 
INTRODUCTION  .  v 

CHAPTER  L 

The  time  of  a  young  man's  leaving  home  always  a, 
critical  period 9 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  sources  of  danger  to  young  men  away  from 
home  .......         15 

CHAPTER  III. 
Sources  of  danger  continued      .  .31 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  progressive   manner  and  successive  steps  by 
which  many  young  men  are  led  astray.  .         56 

CHAPTER  V. 

• 

The  danger  of  young  men  away  from  home  proved 
and  illustrated  by  two  examples      ...        69 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Dangers  of  a  minor  kind  to  which  young  men  away 
from  home  are  exposed          .        .        •        •        90 


M175550 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  means  of  safety  for  young  men  away  from 
home 108 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Religion  considered  as  a  preservative  from  sin          123 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Religion  considered  as  leading  to  comfort  and  hap- 
piness   130 

f       CHAPTER  X. 

Religion  viewed  as  a  means  of  promoting  the  tem- 
poral interest  of  its  possessor  .  .  .  140 

CHAPTER  XL 
Religion  considered  as  a  means  of  usefulness  146 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Religion  considered  as  a  preparation  for  superin- 
tending a  home  of  their  own  upon  earth,  and  for 
going  to  an  eternal  home  in  heaven.  .  .  152 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Several  classes  of  young  men  especially  address- 
ed— the  traveller  by  sea  or  land — the  orphan— 
the  pious  jouth — the  prodigal  .  .  .  159 


INTRODUCTION. 


A  YOUTH  leaving  home  !  There  is  some- 
thing not  a  little  melancholy  in  the  idea. 
Home  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  of  words, 
and  it  is  no  wonder  that  it  should  have 
become  the  subject  of  poetry  and  song. 
There  is  music  in  the  sound,  and  in  every 
heart  that  is  not  yet  corrupted,  there  is  a 
chord  that  vibrates  to  the  note.  It  will 
ever  awaken  a  long  train  of  associations  and 
recollections,  painful  or  pleasant,  as  may 
have  been  the  conduct  of  the  individual  by 
whom  the  word  is  repeated.  It  is  at  home 
that  parents  and  children,  brothers  and  sis- 
ters, as  long  as  Providence  permits  them  to 
dwell  together,  mingle  in  the  sweet  fellow- 
ship of  domestic  bliss.  But  you,  whose  eye 

is  ranging  over  these  pages,  are  leaving,  or 
1* 


Vi  INTRODUCTION. 

have   left   your   father's   house.      You  are 
going,  or  have  gone  away  from  home.     I 
sympathize  with  you  in  the  sorrows  of  that 
tearful  hour  of  your  existence.     Well  do  I 
remember,  even  at  this  distance  from  the 
time,  the  scene  which  my  own  home  pre- 
sented, when  I  finally  quitted  it,  to  embark 
on  life's  stormy  and  dangerous  ocean.     My 
mother,  one   of  the  kindest  and  tenderest 
that  ever  bore  that  dear  relationship,  unable 
to   sustain  the  parting,  had  retired  to  the 
garden ;  my  sisters  wept ;  my  father  walked 
silently  by  my  side  to  the  edge  of  the  town, 
where  I  was  to  take  horse  and  ride  to  meet 
the  coach  that  was  to  carry  me  to  London ; 
while  my  own  heart  was  almost  overwhelm- 
ed with  emotion,  under  the  idea  that  I  was 
leaving  home,  to  encounter  the  anxieties, 
dangers,  and  responsibilities  of  a  new  and 
untried  course. 

In  any  aspect  of  the  event,  it  is  no  trifling 
or  inconsiderable  transaction,  to  quit  the 
scenes,  the  friends,  and  the  guardians  of  our 
childhood  j  to  leave  that  spot,  and  its  dear 


INTRODUCTION.  Vli 

inhabitants,  with  which  are  associated  all 
our  earliest  reminiscences  ;  to  go  from  be- 
neath the  immediate  inspection  of  a  moth- 
er's anxious  love,  and  the  protection  of  a 
father's  watchful  care,  and  expose  ourselves 
to  the  perils,  privations,  and  sorrows  that 
await  the  traveller  on  his  journey  through ^^* 
this  world.  You  ought,  as  a  child,  to  feel 
a  pang  as  your  mother  presses  you  to  her  / 
bosom,  and  sobs  out  her  parting  exclama-  / 
tion,  "Adieu,  my  son."  You  ought  to  feel 
pensive  and  sad,  as  your  father  squeezes 
your  hand,  and  turns  from  you  with  a  heart 
too  full  to  speak.  You  ought,  as  you  cross 
the  threshold  of  that  habitation  where  you 
have  been  nurtured  so  tenderly,  to  cast  a 
longing,  lingering  look  behind.  You  would 
be  unworthy  of  your  parents'  love,  and  of 
home's  endearments,  if  you  could  leave 
them  without  emotion. 

Still,  however,  these  feelings  are  to  be 
guided  and  limited  by  reflection.  You  can- 
not always  remain  at  home,  to  be  nursed  in 
the  lap  of  domestic  enjoyment.  You  have 


T  ill  INTRODUCTION. 

a  part  to  act  in  the  great  drama  of  life,  and 
must  leave  home  to  prepare  to  act  it  well. 
It  is  the  appointment  of  God  that  man 
should  not  live  in  idleness,  but  gain  his 
bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow ,  and  you 
must  be  placed  out  in  the  world  to  get  yours 
by  honest  industry.  In  some  few  cases,  the 
son  remains  with  the  father,  and  prepares 
for  his  future  calling  at  home  j  but  in  by  far 
the  greater  number  of  instances  it  is  neces- 
sary for  young  men  to  learn  their  trade  or 
profession,  and  to  procure  their  livelihood 
by  being  placed  with  strangers  at  a  distance 
from  home.  This  is  your  case,  and  in  kind 
solicitude  for  your  welfare,  this  little  vol- 
ume has  been  prepared,  and  is  now  present- 
ed to  you,  wiih  the  prayers  and  best  wishes 
of  the  author. 


THE 


YOUNG  MAN  FROM  HOME, 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   TIME   OF   A  YOUNG   MAN'S  LEAVING  HOME 
ALWAYS   A   CRITICAL   PERIOD. 

CRITICAL,  I  mean,  as  regards  his  character.  Yes, 
imminently  so.  You  are  aware  that,  besides  your 
attention  to  business  and  acquiring  a  knowledge 
of  that  trade  or  profession  to  which  your  attention 
is  directed,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  the  formation 
of  character,  or  fixed  habits  of  action,  arising  out 
of  fixed  principles.  A  man  may  be  a  good  trades- 
man, and  yet  a  bad  man ;  though  generally,  good 
moral  character  has  a  very  favorable  influence  in 
forming  the  good  tradesman.  I  wish  you  to  direct 
your  most  serious  attention  to  the  importance  of 
character — moral  and  religious  character.  What 
is  every  thing  else  without  character?  How 
worthless  is  any  man  without  this !  He  may 
have  wealth,  but  he  can  neither  enjoy  it,  improve 
it,  nor  be  respected  for  it,  without  character.  But 
it  very  rarely  happens  that  they  who  begin  life 


10  CRITICAL   PERIOD. 

with  a  bad  character,  succeed  in  the  great  compe- 
tition of  this  world's  business.  Multitudes,  with 
every  advantage  at  starting,  have  failed  through 
bad  conduct,  while  others,  with  every  disadvantage, 
have  succeeded  by  the  aid  and  influence  of  good 
character. 

Character  for  life,  and  for  eternity  too,  is  usually 
formed  in  youth.  Set  out  with  this  idea  written 
upon  your  very  hearts,  in  order  that  it  may  be 
ever  exerting  its  powerful  influence  on  your  con- 
duct. As  is  the  youth,  such,  in  all  probability, 
will  be  the  man,  whether  he  be  good  or  bad.  And 
as  character  is  generally  formed  in  youth,  so  it  is 
not  less  generally  formed  at  that  period  of  youth 
when  young  people  leave  home.  The  first  year 
or  two  after  quitting  his  father's  house,  is  the 
most  eventful  period  of  all  a  young  man's  history, 
and  what  he  is  at  the  expiration  of  the  second  or 
third  year  after  leaving  the  parental  abode,  that 
in  all  probability  he  will  be,  as  a  tradesman  for 
this  world,  and  as  an  immortal  being  in  the  next. 
This  should  make  you  pause  and  consider.  Be- 
fore you  read  another  line,  I  entreat  you  to  think 
of  it.  Perhaps  you  doubt  it.  Attend  then  to  what 
I  have  to  offer  in  support  of  the  assertion. 

Does  not  reason  suggest  that  such  a  transition 
as  leaving  home,  cannot  be  negative  in  its  influ- 
ence ?  You  cannot  quit  so  many  restraints,  so 
much  inspection  and  guardianship,  and  come  into 
such  new  circumstances,  at  an  age  when  the  heart 
is  so  susceptible  and  the  character  so  pliable,  with- 


CRITICAL   PERIOD.  11 

out  receiving  a  bias :  it  is  impossible.  New  temp- 
tations assail  you,  which,  if  not  at  once  and  suc- 
cessfully resisted,  will  acquire  a  permanent  as- 
cendency. 

Your  parents,  who  have  gone  before  you  in  the 
path  of  life,  know  the  fact  and  tremble.  It  makes 
their  hearts  ache  to  think  of  sending  you  away 
from  home.  You  know  not,  you  cannot  know, 
what  was  the  deep  and  silent  trouble  of  your  fa- 
ther's heart,  the  painful  solicitude  of  your  mother's 
gentle  spirit,  in  the  prospect  of  your  leaving  them. 
They  sat  hour  after  hour  by  the  fireside,  or  lay 
awake  at  night  talking  on  the  subject,  and  mingled 
their  tears  as  they  thought  of  the  youths  of  their 
acquaintance,  whose  ruin  was  dated  from  the  hour 
of  their  departure  from  home :  "  Oh  !"  they  ex- 
claimed in  anguish,  "  if  this  our  son  should  be  like 
them,  and  become  a  prodigal  too,  and  thus  bring 
down  our  gray  hairs  in  sorrow  to  the  grave! 
Would  that  we  could  keep  him  at  home  under 
our  own  care,  but  we  cannot."  They  then  fell 
upon  their  knees,  and  by  united  prayer,  gained  re- 
lief and  comfort  to  their  aching  hearts,  while  com- 
mending you  to  Him,  who  has  in  ten  thousand  in- 
stances been  the  guide  and  protector  of  youth. 
"While  your  mother,  good  woman !  as  she  packed 
your  trunk,  dropped  her  fast  flowing  tears  upon 
your  clothes,  placed  the  Bible  among  them,  and 
sighed  out  the  petition,  "  Oh  my  son,  my  son! 
Great  God,  preserve  him  from  all  evil." 

Ministers  have  seen  the  danger  of  youths  leaving 


12  CRITICAL  PERIOD. 

home,  most  painfully  exemplified  in  young  men 
who  have  come  from  a  distant  town,  recommend- 
ed perhaps  by  parents  to  their  care,  and  who  for^ 
a  while  attended  their  ministry.  At  first  their 
places  in  the  sanctuary  were  regularly  filled  twice 
a  day,  and  while  the  novelty  lasted,  they  appeared 
to  hear  with  attention  and  interest :  this  soon  di- 
minished, and  they  became  listless  and  neglectful ; 
then  their  seat  was  occasionally  empty  on  a  sab- 
bath evening;  then  habitually  so;  till  at  length 
giving  up  the  morning,  or  only  strolling  in  occasion- 
ally with  some  gay  companion,  they  proclaimed 
the  dreadful  fact,  that  they  had  fallen  into  the 
dangers  incident  to  young  men  upon  leaving  home : 
and  the  next  intelligence  concerning  them,  perhaps* 
was  a  letter  from  a  heart-broken  parent,  confirm- 
ing the  worst  fears  of  the  minister,  by  asking  him 
to  make  an  effort  to  snatch  their  son  from  his  evil 
companions  and  profligate  courses. 

Instances  innumerable  have  occurred,  in  which 
youths,  who,  while  dwelling  under  their  father's 
roof,  have  been  the  joy  and  the  hope  of  their  pa- 
rents, have,  on  leaving  home  and  entering  into  the 
world,  exhibited  a  melancholy  and  awful  transfor- 
mation of  character.  Some  by  slow  degrees  have 
passed  from  virtue  to  vice,  while  others  have  made 
the  transition  so  suddenly,  as  if  by  one  mighty 
bound  they  had  resolved  to  reach  the  way  of  the 
ungodly ;  in  either  case,  the  bitterest  disappoint- 
ment has  been  experienced  by  those  who  have  had 


CRITICAL  PERIOD.  13 

to  contrast  the  prodigal  abroad  with  die  sober 
youth  at  home. 

Youthful  reader,  I  assure  you  that  this  is  no  un- 
common case,  but,  on  the  contrary,  so  frequent,  as 
to  make  every  considerate  parent  tremble  at  send- 
ing away  his  son,  especially  to  the  large  provincial 
towns,  and  most  of  all  to  that  mighty  sink  of  ini- 
quity, the  metropolis. 

What,  then,  should  be  the  state  of  your  mind, 
and  your  reflections  upon  reading  such  an  account 
as  this.  "  Is  it  so,  that  on  leaving  their  father's 
house,  so  many  young  men  who  were  once  virtu- 
ous and  promising,  have  become  vicious  and  profli- 
gate, how  much  does  it  become  me  to  pause  and 
reflect,  lest  I  add  another  to  the  number  !  What 
was  there  in  their  circumstances  and  situation  so 
dangerous  to  virtue,  that  I  may  not  expect  to  find 
in  mine  ?  or  what  is  there  in  my  habits  and  reso- 
lutions, which  was  not,  in  their  better  days,  in 
them  ?  Did  they  fall,  and  shall  I  be  so  confident  of 
steadfastness  as  to  dismiss  fear  and  despise  caution ? 
Do  I  recoil  from  vice  ?  so  did  they,  when,  like  me, 
they  were  at  home.  Do  I  shudder  at  grieving  my 
parents  by  misconduct?  so  did  they,  when,  like 
me,  they  had  their  parents  continually  before  them. 
Am  I  going  forth  high  in  the  confidence  of  my 
parents,  and  the  esteem  of  my  friends  ?  so  did  they. 
Yet  how  cruelly  have  they  disappointed  every  hope 
that  was  formed  concerning  them  !  and  what  is 
Chere  in  my  habits  and  purposes  that  shall  prevent 
2 


14  CRITICAL   PERIOD. 

me  from  imitating  their  example  ?  Oh  if  this  should 
be  the  case !  If  /  should  add  another  to  the  victims 
of  leaving  home !  If  my  reputation,  now  happily 
so  fair,  should  be  tarnished,  faded,  lost !  If  J,  of 
whom  hopes  are  entertained  that  I  am  becoming  a 
Christian,  should  turn  out  a  prodigal,  a  profligate ! 
Dreadful  apostacy.  Great  God,  prevent  it !" 

Could  I  induce  you  thus  to  reflect,  I  should  have 
hope  of  you;  while  a  contrary  spirit  of  self-depen- 
dance  and  confidence,  would  lead  me  to  expect  in 
you  another  proof  that  the  time  of  a  youth's  leav- 
ing home  is  most  critical. 


15 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    SOURCES    OF    DANGER    TO    YOUNG    MEN    AWAY 
FROM   HOME. 

IT  is  well  to  know  what  these  are,  and  where 
they  lie,  that  you  may  know  how  to  avoid  them. 
Ignorance  on  such  a  subject,  would  be  itself  one 
of  the  chief  dangers.  In  many  cases,  to  know 
our  perils  is  itself  one  way  of  avoiding  them. 
Steadily,  then,  contemplate  the  following : — 
jp*\..  You  are  in  danger  of  falling  into  evil,  from 
the  removal  of  parental  inspection,  admonition, 
and  restraint. 

It  must  be  admitted,  that  home  itself  is  some- 
times a  scene  of  peril  to  morals  and  religion.  In 
some  homes,  young  people  see  and  hear  very  little 
but  what  is  calculated  to  do  them  harm.  Pa- 
rental example  is  on  the  side  of  sin,  and  almost 
every  thing  that  is  said  or  done  is  of  a  nature 
likely  to  produce  impressions  unfavourable  to 
piety,  and  perhaps  even  to  morality.  Where  this 
is  the  state  of  things,  removal  is  a  benefit,  and 
not  a  few  have  reason  to  be  thankful  for  having 
been  transplanted  from  such  irreligious  houses, 
into  families  where  God  is  feared  and  religion  is 
exemplified.  If  this  be  your  case,  rejoice  in  the 
dispensation  of  Providence,  which  has  rescued 
you  from  such  imminent  danger,  and  planted  you 
in  a  soil  more  congenial  for  the  cultivation  of  true 


16  DANGER. 

piety.  Happy  youth !  to  be  thus  snatched  from 
the  vortex  of  perdition  at  home,  and  brought  into 
the  way  of  salvation  abroad.  Oh  prize  your  priv- 
ileges, and  improve  your  opportunities.  Many 
a  young  man,  who,  at  the  time  of  leaving  home, 
wept  over  the  necessity  which  caused  him  to  quit 
the  scenes  of  his  childhood,  and  go  from  beneath 
the  wing  of  his  parents,  has  lived  to  consider  it 
the  brightest  era  of  his  life,  inasmuch  as  it  took 
him  away  from  scenes  of  moral  danger,  and  led 
him  to  the  means  of  grace  and  the  path  of  eternal 
life :  and  in  looking  back  upon  the  way  of  Provi- 
dence, and  upon  his  own  feelings  and  ignorance 
of  what  awaited  him,  has  exclaimed,  "  Thou 
bringest  the  blind  in  a  way  that  they  knew  not, 
and  leadest  them  in  paths  that  they  have  not 
known  ;  thou  makest  darkness  light  before  them* 
and  crooked  things  straight." 

This,  however,  is  not  applicable  to  all  fami- 
lies :  if  there  are  some  parents  who  take  no  care 
about  the  religious  or  even  moral  character  of 
their  children,  who  neither  set  them  good  exam- 
ples, nor  deliver  to  them  any  instruction,  nor  im- 
pose upon  them  any  restraint,  but  who  allow 
them  the  unchecked  gratification  of  their  passions 
and  the  unreproved  commission  of  sin,  there  are 
many  others  who  act  a  wiser  and  a  better  part.  In 
most  instances,  parents  are  moral ;  in  many,  they 
are  pious :  and  while  the  former  are  anxious  to 
keep  their  sons  from  vice,  and  train  them  to  vir- 
tue, the  latter  go  farther,  and  endeavour  to  bring 


DANGER.  17 

them  up  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord.  Many  who 
will  read  these  pages  know  this  by  experience. 
You  have  been  brought  up  in  habits  of  rigid 
morality.  Your  parents  have  been  solicitous  to 
form  your  character  on  a  right  basis.  You  have 
been  long  familiar  with  the  voice  of  instruction, 
admonition,  and  warning.  You  have  been  the 
constant  subject  of  an  anxiety  which  you  could 
neither  be  ignorant  of,  nor  mistake.  If  you  were 
seen  in  company  with  a  stranger,  or  with  a  youth 
of  doubtful  character,  you  were  questioned  and 
warned.  If  you  brought  home  a  book,  it  was 
examined.  If  you  stayed  out  at  night  later  than 
usual,  you  saw  a  mother's  anxious  eye  turned 
upon  you,  and  heard  a  father's  voice,  saying,  "  My 
son,  why  so  late,  where  have  you  been?"  In 
short,  you  felt  yourself  within  the  range  of  an 
ever  present  inspection,  and  under  the  pressure  of 
a  never  relaxing  restraint.  The  theatre  and  other 
places  of  pollution  were  strictly  forbidden,  and 
indeed  you  felt  little  inclination  to  visit  even  the 
purlieus  of  those  haunts  of  vice.  Morning  and 
evening  you  heard  the  Scriptures  read,  and  the 
voice  of  prayer  ascend  to  God,  and  ascend  for  you. 
With  such  examples,  under  such  instruction,  and 
amidst  such  scenes,  you  had  no  opportunity,  and 
felt  no  disposition,  to  be  vicious.  Sometimes  you 
thought,  perhaps,  that  the  restraint  was  too  severe 
and  the  care  too  fastidious;  but  then  you  said, 
44  It  is  all  for  my  good,"  and  you  submitted  to  it. 
All  this  is  now  over:  you  have  left,  or  are 
2* 


18  DANGER. 

leaving  home.  The  moment  has  arrived,  or  is 
past,  and  will  never  be  forgotten,  when  those 
arms  which  sustained  your  infant  frame  were 
thrown  around  your  neck  and  pressed  you  to  the 
bosom  that  nourished  you,  while  a  mother's  fal- 
tering voice  exclaimed,  "Farewell,  my  boy;" 
when  a  father,  always  kind,  but  kinder  then  than 
ever,  prolonged  the  sad  adieu,  and  said,  "  My  son, 
I  can  watch  over  you  no  longer.  The  God  whose 
providence  removes  you  from  your  father's  house, 
be  your  protector,  and  preserve  you  from  the  evils  of 
this  sinful  world.  Remember  that  though  my  eye 
cannot  see  you,  his  can,  and  ever  does.  Fear  him." 
And  there,  young  man,  you  now  are,  where  your 
parents'  hearts  trembled  to  place  you,  amidst  the 
snares  and  perils  of  this  evil  world ;  where  your 
father's  inspection  cannot  reach  you,  nor  your 
mother's  tearful  eye  behold  you.  Perhaps  you  are 
in  a  family  where  no  prayer  is  presented,  nor  even 
the  form  of  religion  observed ;  where  you  are  left 
to  yourself,  little  or  no  care  being  taken  of  your 
morals  or  religious  principles:  and  where,  provid- 
ed you  serve  your  employers  with  industry  and 
honesty,  you  may  choose  your  own  companions, 
recreations,  and  places  of  resort.  Or  if  more 
favourably  situated,  and  your  lot  is  cast  in  a  reli- 
gious family,  still  what  is  the  instruction  of  a 
master  compared  with  that  of  a  father,  or  the  care 
of  a  mistress  compared  with  that  of  a  mother  ? 
Away  from  home,  a  viciously  inclined  youth  will 
find  opportunities  for  the  gratification  of  his  evil 


DANGER,  19 

propensities'  in  situations  the  most  friendly  to 
virtue.  His  wicked  heart,  rejoicing  in  the  absence 
of  his  parents,  will  make  that  absence  an  incentive 
to  sin.  Ever  and  anon  the  whisper  will  come  from 
within,  "My  father  is  not  here  to  see  it:  my 
mother  will  not  know  it;  1  am  not  under  inspec- 
tion now,  restraint  is  over,  I  can  go  where  I  like, 
associate  with  whom  I  please,  and  fear  neither 
rebuke  nor  reproach."  O  young  man,  think  of  the 
unutterable  baseness  of  such  conduct  as  this. 
Ought  you  not  to  despise  yourself,  if  you  could 
thus  meanly,  as  well  as  wickedly,  take  advantage 
of  a  father's  absence,  to  do  that  which  you  know 
would  excite  his  strongest  reprobation,  and  afflict 
him  with  the  bitterest  grief,  if  he  were  present. 
Yet  multitudes  are  thus  base  and  wicked,  and 
have  gone  from  their  parents  to  ruin  themselves 
for  ever.  Act,  young  man,  act  as  you  would  do, 
if  you  were  conscious  that  your  father's  eye  were 
upon  you. 

p  2.  Your  danger  is  increased  ly  the  spirit  of  in- 
dependence and  self -confidence,  connected,  as  of 
course  it  must  be,  with  much  ignorance  and  inexpe- 
rience, which  young  men  are  apt  to  assume,  when  they 
leave  their  father's  house,  and  go  out  into  the  world. 
"  Paternal  rule  is  now  over,  my  parents  are  not 
at  hand  to  be  consulted  or  obeyed ;  and  if  they 
were,  it  is  time  for  me  to  think  and  act  for  myself. 
I  am  my  own  master  now.  I  am  a  young  man, 
and  no  longer  a  child.  I  am  capable  of  judging, 
discriminating,  and  determining  between  right  and 


20  BANGER. 

wrong.  I  have  the  right,  and  will  exercise  it,  of 
forming  my  own  standard  of  morals,  selecting  my 
own  models  of  character,  and  laying  down  my 
own  plans  of  action.  Who  has  authority  to  inter- 
fere with  me  ?"  Such  probably  are  your  thoughts, 
and  they  are  encouraged  by  many  around  you, 
who  suggest  that  you  are  not  always  to  go  in  lead- 
ing strings,  but  ought  now  to  assert  your  liberty, 
and  act  like  a  man.  Yes,  and  how  many  have 
employed  and  abused  this  liberty  to  the  most 
criminal  and  fatal  purposes :  it  has  been  a  liberty 
to  destroy  all  the  habits  of  virtue  formed  at  home, 
to  subvert  all  the  principles  planted  with  such  care 
by  parental  solicitude,  and  to  rush  into  all  the  evil 
practices,  against  which  the  voice  of  warning  had 
been  raised  from  boyhood.  Many  young  men 
have  no  sooner  been  freed  from  parental  restraint 
and  become  their  own  masters,  than  they  have 
hurried  to  every  place  of  amusement,  resorted  to 
every  species  of  vicious  diversion,  initiated 'them- 
selves into  all  the  mysteries  of  iniquity,  and  with 
prurient  curiosity  to  know,  what  it  is  bliss  to  be 
ignorant  of,  have  entered  into  fellowship  with  the 
unfruitful  works  of  darkness.  Happy,  happy,  had 
they  been,  had  they  considered  that  an  indepen- 
dence which  sets  them  free  from  parental  advice 
and  control,  is  the  bane  of  piety,  morality,  and  feli- 
city, and  has  proved,  where  it  has  been  assumed, 
the  ruin  for  both  worlds  of  multitudes  of  once 
hopeful  youths.  Wise  is  that  young  man,  and 
blessed  in  all  probability  will  he  be,  who,  though 


DANGER,  21 

he  has  left  his  father's  house,  and  it  may  be  has 
arrived  at  the  age  of  maturity,  feels  it  his  privilege 
as  well  as  his  duty,  to  look  up  to  his  parents  as 
his  counsellors,  his  comforters,  and,  in  some  re- 
spects, his  rulers;  who  allows  the  restraints  of 
home  to  follow  him  abroad ;  and  who,  amidst  the 
dangerous  intricacies  of  life,  is  thankful  to  accept 
the  offices  of  a  judicious  father,  to  be  the  guide  of 
his  youth. 

Independence  of  one  kind,  I  mean  pecuniary  sup- 
port, is  that  which  every  youth,  sensible  of  what 
is  due  to  himself,  as  well  as  to  his  parents,  will  be  •; 
eager  to  acquire.  It  is  a  noble  and  generous  ambi- 
tion that  dictates  the  wish  to  be  self  supported. 
Some  young  men  have  disgraced  themselves  in  the 
estimation  of  all  who  knew  them  by  hanging  on 
upon  the  industry  and  resources,  and  these  but 
limited  too,  of  parents,  whose  delight  in  their  chil- 
dren made  them  willing  to  endure  any  labour  and 
suffer  any  privations  on  their  account.  I  know 
nothing  more  mean,  or  cruel,  than  for  a  youth  thus 
to  take  advantage  of  the  strength  of  parental  love, 
and  keep  a  father  chained  to  the  oar  of  labour,  and 
draining  him  of  his  last  pound,  to  support  himself 
in  idleness,  or  to  supply  the  means  of  his  luxurious 
extravagance.  Disdain,  young  man,  the  thought 
of  living  by  the  sweat  of  your  father's  brow,  and 
the  wear  and  tear  of  his  flesh  and  blood,  his  bones 
and  muscles.  Be  industrious  and  frugal,  that  as 
soon  as  possible  you  may  be,  in  this  respect,  you* 
own  master,  and  your  own  supporter. 


22  DANGER. 

3.  The  numerous  incentives  to  vice  with  which 
every  place,  but  especially  the  metropolis  and  large 
provincial  towns,  abound,  and  the  opportunities  of 
concealment  which  are  to  be  found  there,  are  a 
source  of  great  danger. 

At  the  head  of  all  these  must  be  placed  the 
THEATRE,  which  is  there  to  be  found  in  all  its  most 
powerful  attractions  and  most  destructive  fascina- 
tions. Nothing  too  strong,  or  too  bad,  can  be  said 
of  the  injurious  tendency  of  the  stage;  nor  too  earn- 
est or  impassioned  in  the  way,  and  with  the  intent, 
of  warning  young  men  from  venturing  within  its 
precincts.  It  is  emphatically,  and  by  way  of  emi- 
nence, the  broad  road  and  wide  gate  that  leadeth 
to  destruction.  It  is  idle  to  talk  of  what  the  drama 
and  the  stage  may,  in  the  hands  of  moralists,  be- 
come. I  speak  not  of  playhouses  in  the  land  of 
Utopia,  but  of  such  as  now  exist  and  are  to  be 
found  in  our  land,  and  of  such  as  you,  my  reader, 
will  attend,  if  you  go  to  any.  Dr.  Johnson  has 
very  truly  said — 

"  The  drama's  laws,  the  drama's  patrons  give, 

And  they  who  live  to  please,  must  please  to  live." 
As  to  the  staple  matter  of  which  the  ordinary 
run  of  dramatic  representations  are  composed,  it  is 
altogether  adapted  to  corrupt  the  youthful  mind, 
by  appealing  to  the  most  inflammable,  the  most 
powerful,  and  the  most  dangerous  of  its  passions. 
Tragedy,  with  whatever  fine  passages  and  occa- 
sional sentiment  it  may  be  adorned,  is  usually  cal- 
culated to  produce  pride,  ambition,  and  revenge ; 


DANGER.  23 

while  comedy,  such  as  is  most  suited  to  the  public 
taste,  and  therefore  most  in  demand,  is  the  school 
for  intrigue,  amours,  and  licentiousness.  It  is  not, 
however,  the  subject  matter  only  of  the  play  itself 
that  is  corrupting,  but  the  representation  of  it  upon 
the  stage,  with  all  the  accompaniments  of  the 
theatre.  Not  only  is  the  lesson  vicious,  but  the 
teacher  and  the  schoolfellows  are  vicious  too.  It 
is  bad  sentiment,  borrowing  every  possible  aid  to 
render  it  still  worse :  it  is  vice  recommended  by 
the  charms  of  music,  painting,  architecture,  ora- 
tory, eloquence,  with  all  that  is  fascinating  in 
female  beauty,  and  dazzling  m  elegant  costume. 
Think  of  the  audience:  that  many  of  them  are 
honest,  virtuous,  and  respectable  members  of  so- 
ciety, I  allow ;  but  how  large  a  portion  of  it  is  of 
a  contrary  description.  Is  there  any  where  such  a 
collection  of  the  vicious,  such  a  condensation  of 
vice,  as  at  the  theatre?  Is  it  not  there  that  the 
dissipated  meet  to  make  their  guilty  assignations? 
Is  not  the  profligate,  of  whatever  grade  or  kind, 
sure  to  meet  his  fellow  there?  Is  it  not  the  har- 
lot's resort,  the  place  of  convocation  for  those 
miserable  beings,  whose  ways  lead  down  to  the 
chambers  of  death  and  the  pit  of  destruction,  and 
who  there  swarm  in  the  lobbies  and  crowd  the 
benches  ? 

It  were  easy  to  enumerate  the  evils,  though  they 
are  many  and  great,  to  which  frequenting  the  the- 
atre will  expose  you.  It  is  expensive,  and  will  thus 
endanger  your  honesty.  It  leads  to  other  expen- 


24 


sive  sins,  such  as  drunkenness  and  debauchery* 
which,  besides  being  evil  themselves,  will  consume 
the  fruits  of  your  industry.  It  is  sure  to  lead  you 
into  bad  company.  It  generates  a  feverish  imagi- 
nation, and  destroys  a  right  balance  of  character. 
It  raises  the  passions  above  their  proper  tone,  and 
thus  induces  a  dislike  for  those  grave  and  serious 
subjects  of  life  which  have  nothing  but  their  sim- 
plicity and  importance  to  recommend  them.  It 
kindles  low  and  base  appetites,  and  creates  a  con- 
stant hankering  after  their  indulgence.  It  not  only 
hardens  the  heart  against  religion,  so  that  a  thea- 
tre-loving man  never  becomes  religious,  until  he  is 
persuaded  to  abandon  these  amusements,  but  it 
gradually  benumbs  the  conscience  into  an  insensi- 
bility to  good  morals.  Through  the  power  of  the 
morbid  propensities,  and  ungovernable  desires 
which  it  produces,  it  often  urges  on  to  licentious 
conduct,  so  that  a  youth  who  frequents  the  play- 
house is  almost  sure  to  fall  a  victim  to  the  lips  of 
the  strange  woman,  for  "  they  drop  as  the  honey- 
comb, and  her  mouth  is  smoother  than  oil  ;  but 
her  end  is  bitter  as  wormwood,  sharp  as  a  two- 
edged  sword.  Her  feet  go  down  to  death,  her 
steps  take  hold  on  hell."* 

*  The  following  demonstration  of  the  demoralizing 
influence  of  the  theatre,  arising  from  the  crowds  of  bad 
women  that  frequent  it,  is  furnished  by  a  Boston  corres- 
pondent to  the  editor  of  the  "  New  York  Observer," 
June  29,  1839  :— 


DANGER.  25 

Myriads  of  young  men  have  had  to  date  their 
ruin  for  both  worlds  from  the  fatal  night  when, 
against  the  dissuasions  of  parents  and  the  remon- 
strances of  conscience,  they  first  trusted  their  mo- 
rality, till  then  uncorrupted,  within  the  walls  of  a 

"  The  Tremont  theatre  is  in  trouble.  It  proves  to  be 
a  losing  concern,  and  there  appears  to  be  no  way  to  make 
it  profitable.  It  was  built  with  the  avowed  intention  of 
raising  the  respectability  of  the  drama  ;  and  I  believe  the 
manager  has  honestly  done  his  best  to  meet,  at  once,  the 
demands  of  those  who  love  theatres  and  those  who  love 
good  morals.  Several  years  since,  he  abolished  his  bar 
for  the  sale  of  intoxicating  liquors  ;  in  consideration  of 
which  he  solicited  and  obtained  a  license  for  his  theatre, 
without  paying  the  usual  tax.  He  afterwards  attempted 
another  reform,  which  he  delicately  announced  by  a  no- 
tice that  no  lady  would  be  admitted  to  any  part  of  the 
theatre  unless  accompanied  by  a  gentleman,  thus  exclud- 
ing all  '  ladies'  in  whose  company  no  gentleman  would 
be  willing  to  be  seen.  This  was  necessary,  because  so 
many  of  both  sexes  utterly  refused  to  attend  a  place  of 
amusement  where  it  was  known  that  such  'ladies'  would 
form  a  part  of  the  company.  But  the  loss  of  the  patron- 
age of  such  '  ladies,'  and  of  those  who  stayed  away  when 
they  were  excluded,  was  more  than  the  manager's  purse 
could  bear,  and  in  a  few  weeks  the  rule  was  suffered  to 
fall  into  disuse.  Of  late,  there  has  been  an  investiga- 
tion of  the  affairs  of  the  company,  and  a  report  has  been 
published,  from  which  it  appears,  that  even  if  the  man- 
ager had  the  building  rent-free,  the  receipts  would  fai$ 
conside&hl.y  short  of  meeting  the  other  expenses." 
3 


£6  DANGER. 

theatre.  Let  earnest,  affectionate,  importunate 
entreaty  prevail,  then,  to  induce  you  to  abstain 
from  this  road  to  perdition.  If  you  will  not  take 
iny  testimony,  hearken  to  that  which  is  furnished 
by  witnesses  more  competent,  from  experience,  to 
give  evidence.  It  is  said  of  Sir  Matthew  Hale, 
one  of  the  greatest  and  most  upright  judges  that 
ever  sat  on  the  bench,  "  that  he  was  an  extraordi- 
nary proficient  at  school,  and  for  some  time  at 
Oxford  ;  but  the  stage-players  coming  thither,  he 
was  so  much  corrupted  by  seeing  plays,  that  he 
almost  wholly  forsook  his  studies.  By  this  he 
not  only  lost  much  time,  but  found  that  his  head 
was  thereby  filled  with  vain  images  of  things ;  and 
being  afterwards  sensible  of  the  mischief  of  this,  he 
resolved,  upon  his  coming  to  London,  never  to  see 
a  play  again,  to  which  resolution  he  constantly 
adhered."  Augustine,  the  celebrated  Latin  father, 
confesses,  with  a  noble  frankness,  that  it  was  at 
the  theatre  he  imbibed  the  venom  which  so  cor- 
rupted his  heart  and  polluted  his  life  during  his 
early  years.  "  There  is  no  part  of  theatrical  econ- 
omy," •  says  one,  "  with  which  I  am  unacquaint- 
ed ;  and  it  is  my  personal  and  complete  knowledge 
of  that  economy  which  forces  upon  me  the  con- 
viction, that  were  another  Ezekiel  to  arise,  and 
another  angel  descend,  to  exhibit  to  him  the 
greater  and  greater  abominations  of  this  land,  he 
would  reserve  for  the  astonished  and  indignant 
prophet  a  display  of  the  iniquities  of  a  London 
theatre,  as  the  last  and  most  fearful  chambers  of 


DANGER.  27 

imagery."  "  As  I  was  one  day  walking  out," 
says  an  American  preacher,  "  for  my  accustomed 
exercise,  a  gentleman  passed  me  in  his  carriage, 
and  invited  me  to  ride  with  him.  He  is  a  man  of 
wealth  and  distinction,  and  of  an  elevated  and 
pious  character.  He  came  to  the  city  when 
young,  without  friends,  without  money,  without 
reputation,  without  any  extrinsic  means  whatever 
of  getting  started  in  business.  Soon  after  I  took 
a  seat  with  him,  two  young  men  of  dissipated  air, 
with  cigars  in  their  mouths,  dashed  furiously  past 
us  in  a  chaise.  c  There,'  said  he, '  are  two  young  men 
going  fast  to  ruin.'  This  incident  turned  our  con- 
versation upon  the  expenses  and  the  ruin  of  young 
men.  He  remarked  that  most  of  the  young  men. 
who  carne  to  live  in  Boston  (America)  at  the  time 
he  did,  had  already  gone  to  ruin.  I  told  him  that 
the  interest  I  felt  in  them  prompted  the  inquiry, 
how  it  came  to  pass  that  he  escaped,  and  by  what 
means  he  had  succeeded  so  well  in  life  ?  He  re- 
plied, that  when  he  came  to  the  city,  he  laid 
down  some  rules,  which  he  had  steadfastly 
observed.  Among  them  were  the  following: — 
That  he  would  always  attend  public  worship  on 
the  sabbath ;  that  he  would  never  read  loose  and 
infidel  writings,  nor  visit  infidel  meetings;  that 
he  would  devote  a  portion  of  his  time  to  some 
profitable  study ;  that  he  would  be  always  diligent 
and  faithful  in  business,  however  discouraging 
things  might  look;  that  he  would  not  frequent 


28  DANGER. 

places  for  refreshment,  unless  for  necessary  food  ; 
that  he  would  form  no  alliance  with  any  individu- 
als, for  society  or  amusement,  till  he  knew  them 
to  be  safe  and  virtuous  companions;  and,  that  he 
would  not  go  to  the  theatre  till  he  was  forty-five 
years  old,  when  he  supposed  he  should  be  above 
the  reach  of  any  injury  from  that  source.  Long 
before  he  reached  that  age,  he  became  a  pious 
man,  and  of  course  he  now  finds  higher  sources  of 
pleasure  than  the  theatre,  a  place  he  never  visit- 
ed. Another  youth,  who  came  to  the  city  at  the 
same  time  and  from  the  same  place  with  him, 
took  lodgings  at  a  house  with  some  theatre-going 
young  men,  was  prevailed  upon  to  go  for  once, 
then  again,  and  again ;  became  loose  in  his  prin- 
ciples and  habits:  one  wrong  step  led  to  another, 
until  he  went  headlong  to  ruin,  and  found  an  infa- 
mous grave !  And  this,  he  remarked,  had  been 
the  sad  history  of  many  who  entered  on  and  be- 
gan their  career  in  life  with  him." 

I  have  no  need,  after  this  to  add  any  thing,  ex- 
cept it  be  to  advise  you  never  to  do  as  some  have 
done  to  their  destruction,  and  that  is,  to  go  once,  in 
order  to  judge  for  yourself.  Taste  not  the  poison 
to  ascertain  how  you  like  it,  and  to  form  an  opinion 
of  its  deleterious  power.  Touch  not  the  fang  of  a 
serpent,  to  ascertain  by  examination  the  sharpness 
of  its  tooth.  These  are  matters  which  it  is  safer 
and  easier  to  decide  by  testimony ;  and  a  cloud  of 
witnesses  can,  and  do  depose,  that  of  all  the  ave- 


DANGER,  29 

nues  to  destruction,  not  one  is  more  seductive,  or 
more  direct,  than  the  THEATRE.* 

But  besides  the  theatre,  how  many  other  species 
of  corrupt  and  corrupting  amusement  are  to  be 
found.  Need  I  mention  GAMBLING-HOUSES,  brought 
down  to  the  level  of  persons  of  slender  means, 
where  the  excitement  of  cupidity,  and  the  witch- 
ery of  a  love  of  play,  is  kept  up,  to  the  destruction 
of  all  sobriety  of  mind  and  industrious  habits.  Is 
it  necessary  to  speak  of  the  DIVANS,  or  rooms  where 
young  men  meet  to  smoke  cigars,  that  modern  in- 
vention for  corrupting  the  minds  and  destroying 
the  character  of  youth  ?  It  may  seem  to  some  to 
be  trifling,  but  I  know  it  is  not,  to  say,  that  the 
first  cigar  a  young  man  takes  within  his  lips  may 
become,  and  often  does  become,  his  first  step  in 
the  career  of  vice.  A  cigar  is,  with  young  persons, 
the  symbol  of  foppery,  and  swaggering,  and  con- 
ceit. I  knew  a  youth,  and  he  was  the  son  of  a 
minister  too,  who  acquired  such  a  passion  for  this 
species  of  gratification,  that  it  contributed  to  the 
ruin  of  his  circumstances  as  well  as  of  his  charac- 
ter. His  income  was  limited,  and  he  was  at  one 
time  twenty  pounds  in  debt  to  the  tobacconist  for 
cigars,  at  whose  house  he  used  to  meet  a  company 
of  youths,  as  idle  as  himself,  to  enjoy  the  gratifica- 
tion of  smoking.  I  heard  of  another  instance, 

*  I  most  earnestly  recommend  to   all  young  persons 
who  are  in  any  doubt  about  this  subject,  the   perusal  of 
Styles's  Essay  on  the  stage 
3* 


30  DANGER. 

which  I  was  assured  was  a  well-known  fact,  in  the 
town  of  Liverpool,  of  an  individual,  of  course  a 
man  of  some  property,  who  spent  a  pound  a  day 
in  -cigars,  which  he  had  sprinkled  with  otto  of  roses 
before  he  smoked  them.  I  always  grieve  and 
tremble  over  every  young  man  of  my  acquaintance 
whom  I  see  contracting  this  habit.  It  often  leads 
to  other  and  far  worse  things. 

Then  there  are  THE  NOCTURNAL  ORGIES  OF  CERTAIN 
WALKS  AND  BOWERS,  the  tea-gardens,  the  parks,  and 
the  steamboats  to  Richmond,  or  Gravesend,  or 
Greenwich,  those  alluring  baits  for  sabbath-break- 
ing, by  which  millions,  as  lime  rolls  on,  are  caught 
in  the  snares  of  Satan,  ever  lying  in  wait  to  deceive 
and  to  decoy.  "  What  harm  can  there  be,"  it  is 
said,  "after  we  have  been  shut  up  all  the  week  in 
a  close  street,  hard  at  work,  to  g6  out  on  a  fine 
summer  day,  to  enjoy  the  clear  sunshine,  the  fresh 
air,  and  the  beauties  of  creation  ?  Surely  our  Maker 
is  not  such  a  hard  master  as  to  refuse  us  gratifica- 
tions so  innocent  and  so  healthful."  And  thus 
sabbath-breaking,  which  is  a  manifest  violation  of 
the  laws  of  God,  is  defended  by  an  appeal  to  his 
goodness.  Probably  there  is  no  metlns  of  destroy- 
ing religious  principle,  and  of  leading  to  immoral- 
ity, more  common,  than  the  neglect  of  public  wor- 
ship, and  the  desecration  of  the  sabbath.  Let  this 
hallowed  season  be  taken  from  devotion,  and  given 
to  pleasure,  and  the  character  is  from  that  time 
open  to  all  the  inroads  of  sin,  without  any  check. 


DANGER.  31 


CHAPTER  III. 

SOURCES  OF  DANGER  CONTINUED. 

/BAD  COMPANIONS  are  a  source  of  danger.     Perhaps 
'v/more  young-  men  are  ruined  by  this  than  by  any 
other  means  that  could  be  mentioned.     Many  who 
have  left  home  with  a  character  unsullied,  and  a 
mind  not  only  comparatively  pure,  but  really  igno- 
rant of  the  crooked  ways  of  vice, — who,  simple, 
artless,  and  without  guile,  would  have  shuddered 
at  the  temptation  to  any  of  the  grossest  acts  of  sin, 
have  at  length  fallen  sacrifices  to  the  powerful  in- 
fluence of  evil  associates.     Man  is  a  social  being, 
and  the  propensity  is  peculiarly  strong  in  youth,  a 
season  when  it  requires  to  be  watched  with  great- 
er care  than  at  any  other,  because  of  the  greater 
force  which  it  exerts  in  the  formation  of  character. 
Now  and  then  we  meet  with  a  youth  who  is  so 
engrossed  with  business,  so  intent  on  cultivating 
his  mind,  or  so  reserved  in  disposition,  as  to  have 
no  desire  for  companions ;  but  by  far  the  greater 
number  are  fond  of  society,  and  eager  to  enjoy  it, 
and,  if  not  extremely  careful  in  the  selection  of 
their  friends,  are  in  imminent  peril  of  choosing 
such  as  will  do  them  harm.     It  is  next  to  impos- 
sible, young  man,  for  you  to  remain  virtuous  in 
vicious  society.     Good  morals  cannot  long  be  re- 
tained in  habitual  intercourse  with  those  who  are 
gay  and  dissipated ;  it  is  like  carrying  money  into 


32  DANGER. 

the  company  of  thieves,  who  will  be  sure  to  rob 
you  of  it.  Your  good  conduct  would  render  them 
uneasy :  it  would  reprove  them,  accuse  them,  and 
exasperate  them ;  and  they  will  never  cease  till 
they  have  made  you  as  bad  as  themselves.  The 
more  agreeable,  amiable,  and  intelligent  they  are, 
the  more  dangerous  and  ensnaring  is  their  influ- 
ence. A  youthful  profligate,  of  elegant  manners 9 
lively  humour,  amiable  temper,  and  intelligent 
mind,  is  Satan's  most  polished  instrument  for  ruin- 
ing immortal  souls.  Once  give  your  company  to 
such  an  associate,  and  you  are  in  the  coils  of  a 
serpent,  or  at  any  rate  in  the  spell  of  the  basilisk's 
deadly  gaze,  from  which  nothing  but  Omnipotence 
can  pluck  you.  You  may  for  some  time  be  kept 
from  imitating  him  in  his  excess  of  riot,  and  pre- 
vented by  the  last  efforts  of  a  yet  surviving  con- 
science, from  going  his  lengths  in  sin,  but  you  are 
in  the  track  of  his  footsteps,  following  at  a  distance, 
while  he  is  perpetually  looking  back,  and  by  smiles 
and  beckonings  rallying  your  courage,  and  cheer- 
ing onward  your  yet  timid  and  reluctant  feet. 

No  evil  companions  are  to  be  so  much  d  readed 
as  those  who  dwell  under  the  same  roof;  and  how 
frequently  is  it  the  unhappy  lot  of  young  men 
piously  brought  up,  and  in  every  respect  hopeful  as 
to  morality,  and  perhaps  as  to  piety  also,  to  be 
fixed  in  the  same  house,  to  eafat  the  same  table, 
10  sleep  in  the  same  room,  perhaps  in  the  same 
bed,  as  some  youths  of  vicious  and  infidel  princi- 
ples. They  are  thus  brought  into  immediate 


DANGER.  33 

contact  with  sin,  and  exposed  at  once  to  all  the 
virulence  of  its  contagion ;  and  what  strength  of 
moral  constitution  does  it  require  to  resist  the 
danger !  They  breathe  an  infected  atmosphere, 
and  continually  touch  a  pestilential  person.  Take 
the  testimony  of  one  who  left  his  father's  house 
strictly  moral,  and  with  much  veneration  for  reli- 
gion, but  whose  dark  and  winding  course  led  him 
at  last  into  the  vicinity  of  the  gallows.  "  In  my 
master's  house,"  says  he,  "  there  were  three  young 
men  employed  besides  myself.  One  of  them,  a 
gay,  respectable  youth,  was  a  great  favourite  with 
my  employer.  He  was  my  bedfellow.  Of  course 
this  led  to  intimacy,  and  from  him  I  received  the 
first  disposition  to  extravagance  and  dress,  which 
laid  the  foundation  of  my  ruin.  He  was  extremely 
prodigal  in  his  habits ;  but  from  the  respectability 
of  his  connexions,  no  suspicion  was  excited  that 
bis  supplies  were  not  equal  to  his  expenses.  By 
him  I  became  gradually  familiarized  to  scenes  of 
pleasure  and  dissipation,  which  soon  exceeded  my 
means  of  support ;  but  I  never  dreamed  of  having 
recourse  to  dishonest  means  to  meet  expensive 
indulgences.  I  soon  found  that  I  should  be  in- 
volved in  great  difficulties,  and  began  to  withdraw 
from  his  company,  and  associated  as  much  as 
possible  with  my  brother  and  a  cousin  of  mine  in 
the  city. 

"  A  circumstance,  however,  soon  occurred,  which 
threw  ihe  forbidden  fruit  in  my  way,  and  my  in- 
tegrity could  not  resist  the  temptation.  After 


34  DANGER. 

being  about  two  years  in  my  situation,  I  was  sent, 
on  one  occasion,  with  a  parcel  to  a  gentleman,  for 
which  I  was  to  receive  the  money,  about  two 
pounds.  Such  parts  of  the  business  had  often  fallen 
to  my  lot.  On  this  occasion,  however,  in  the 
hurry  of  business,  without  the  least  dishonesty  of 
intention,  I  forgot  to  give  the  money  to  my  em- 
ployer, and  did  not  discover  the  note  in  my  pocket 
till  some  time  afterwards,  several  weeks  at  least. 
I  was  much  alarmed  at  the  circumstance,  and 
knew  not  how  to  act.  I  was  afraid  to  mention 
the  matter  to  any  one.  I  determined  to  let  the 
note  remain  where  it  was,  and  if  no  inquiry  was 
made,  at  length  to  appropriate  the  money  to  my- 
self. Thus  I  fell  into  the  snare."  And  thus  he 
commenced  a  career  of  dishonesty,  the  end  of 
which  will  be  related  in  the  sequel,  and  to  which 
he  was  introduced  by  a  bad  companion. 

I  might  mention  another  case,  illustrative  of  the 
same  fact,  of  the  danger  of  a  bad  companion  in  the 
house ;  but  happily  the  danger  was  escaped  in  this 
instance.  I  knew  a  youth,  whose  parents  felt  the 
greatest  solicitude  for  their  child,  whom  they  were 
about  to  place  from  home.  He  had  been  carefully 
educated,  from  his  earliest  years,  in  habits  of  mo- 
rality and  piety.  His  school  had  been  selected 
with  special  reference  to  the  plan  laid  down  at 
home,  for  the  formation  of  his  character.  But  now 
this  lovely  youth,  for  he  was  most  lovely,  must 
leave  home,  and  go  out  into  the  world.  How  anx- 
iously did  the  father  read  the  advertisements  to 


DANGER.  35 

find  one  which  commanded  all  the  advantages  of 
a  pious  master  and  a  lively  minister !  He  suc- 
ceeded, and  a  most  excellent  Christian  he  found, 
with  whom  to  place  his  son.  The  family  was 
what  a  Christian  family  should  be ;  and  then  the 
other  apprentice,  he  also  was  supposed  to  be  all 
that  could  be  wished  as  a  companion  for  a  youth 
just  quitting  the  parental  roof,  the  son  of  a  minis- 
ter, and  unsuspected  as  to  his  principles.  Many 
months,  however,  had  not  passed  before  the  min- 
ister received  a  letter  from  the  heart-stricken 
mother,  to  say  she  had  heard  from  her  child, 
stating  that  his  soul  was  in  imminent  peril.  He 
had  been  under  religious  impressions,  and  in  much 
concern  about  his  immortal  welfare ;  but  his  com- 
panion proved  to  be  a  concealed  infidel — concealed, 
I  mean,  from  his  father  and  his  master.  Nightly, 
when  they  retired  to  rest,  was  this  deceiver  and 
tempter  instilling  into  the  mind  of  his  younger  com- 
panion his  artful  objections  against  Christianity, 
and  endeavouring  to  poison  him  with  infidelity. 
As  he  could  bear  it,  his  mind  was  assailed  by  one 
cavil  after  another,  till  the  poor  boy,  unable  any 
longer  to  endure  it,  yet  afraid  to  disclose  it,  wrote 
home  to  his  mother,  exclaiming  in  an  agony, 
"Oh,  mother,  I  am  lost,  I  am  lost,  unless  you 
pray  for  me."  Horror-struck,  she  addressed  the 
minister  immediately  upon  the  subject,  and  by 
their  joint  labours,  and  the  blessing  of  God  upon 
them,  this  youth  was  snatched  from  the  fangs  of 
the  destroyer.  He  acted  most  wisely  in  making 


36  DANG£K. 

his  parents  acquainted  with  his  situation,  and  irri« 
ploring  their  counsel  and  help.  A  little  longer, 
and  he  would,  in  all  probability,  have  been  carried 
off  in  triumph,  and  perhaps  have  been  ruined  for 
botli  worlds. 

Oh  that  I  could  select  words  sufficiently  em- 
phatic to  express  my  entreaties  to  you  to  beware 
of  evil  companions  out  of  the  house,  but  especially 
tn  it.  Oh  could  you  see  but  a  thousandth  part  of 
the  miserable  ghosts  that  have  passed  to  the 
regions  of  unutterable  wo  by  the  influence  of  bad 
associates,  what  a  comment  would  their  damna- 
tion be  upon  the  passage,  "  A  companion  of  fools 
shall  be  destroyed !" 

/  Vicious  WOMEN  are  as  much  to  be  dreaded  aa 
bad  men,  and  far  more  so.  I  have  known  some 
who  have  been  in  great  jeopardy  from  female 
servants.  It  is  of  the  greatest  consequence  that  a 
young  man  should  be  upon  his  guard  against  this 
danger,  and  not  allow  himself  to  take,  or  receive, 
the  smallest  possible  liberty,  that  would  intrench 
upon  the  most  delicate  modesty.  Profligacy  and 
misery  of  a  vast  amount  have  been  the  result  of  a 
want  of  caution  in  this  matter.  Towards  young 
women  of  this  description,  be  always  kind,  but 
never  familiar;  never  joke  with  them:  keep  them 
at  a  proper  distance,  by  keeping  yourself  so.  Not 
a  few  have  been  lost  to  morality,  by  not  watching 
against  this  danger.  And  then,  how  are  our 
towns  infested  with  those  unhappy  women,  wh-o 
in  many,  if  not  most  cases,  are  the  victims  of  seduc- 


DA.NGEH.  37 

tion,  and  horribly  avenge  themselves  upon  the  sex 
nf  their  betrayers,  by  becoming  seducers  in  their 
turn.  Youthful  reader,  be  upon  your  guard  against 
this  peril  to  your  health,  your  morals,  your  soul. 
Go  where  you  will,  this  snare  is  spread  for  your 
feet.  Watch  and  pray,  that  ye  enter  not  into 
temptation.  Set  a  strict  guard  upon  your  senses, 
your  imagination,  your  passions.  Once  yield  to 
temptation,  and  you  are  undone :  purity  is  then 
tost,  and,  sunk  from  self-esteem,  you  may  give 
yourself  up  to  commit  all  unclearmess  with  greedi- 
ness. Prov.  vii. 

DRINKING  PARTIES,  though  not  so  common  as 
they  were,  or  as  are  some  other  snares  are  still 
sufficiently  prevalent  to  be  pointed  out  as  a  source 
of  danger.  Happily  for  the  morals  of  our  coun^ 
try,  a  hard  drinker  is  no  longer  regarded  with 
-eclat  in  the  better  classes  of  society.  Still  it  is 
an  object  of  ambition  with  sonre  misguided 
youths,  to  be  able  to  use  the  bottle  with  freedom, 
and  drink  the  bumper  and  the  toast  with  convivial 
grace  and  manly  firmness.  What  a  low  and  sen- 
sual aim !  Young  man,  as  you  would  not  lie 
down  in  .the  grave  of  a  drunkard,  worn  out  fey 
disease,  and  closing  your  miserable  career  in 
poverty  and  wretchedness,  beware  of  the  filthy, 
degrading,  and  destructive  habit  of  drinking* 
Remember  the  words  of  the  wisest  of  men: 
"  Who  hath  wo  ?  who  hath  sorrow  ?  who  hath, 
contentions  ?  who  hath  babbling  ?  who  hath 
"wounds  without  cause?  who  hath  redness  </ 
4 


28  DANGER. 

eyes?  They  that  tarry  long  at  the  wine;  they 
that  go  to  seek  mixed  wine.  Look  not  thou  upon 
the  wine  when  it  is  red,  when  it  giveth  his  colour 
in  the  cup,  when  it  moveth  itself  aright;  at  the 
last  it  biteth  like  a  serpent,  and  stingeth  like  an 
adder.  Thine  eyes  shall  behold  strange  women, 
and  thy  heart  shall  utter  perverse  things.  Yea,  thou 
shalt  be  as  he  that  lieth  down  in  the  midst  of 
the  sea,  or  as  he  that  lieth  upon  the  top  of  a  mast. 
They  have  stricken  me,  shalt  thou  say,  and  I  was 
not  sick ;  they  have  beaten  me,  and  I  felt  it  not : 
when  shall  I  awake?  I  will  seek  it  yet  again," 
Prov.  xxiii.  29 — 35.  Study  this  inimitable  and 
graphic  picture  of  drinking  and  its  consequences, 
and  begin  life  with  a  horror  of  drunkenness ;  ac- 
quire an  Omopkobia, — a  dread  of  wine.  It  is 
calculated  that  fifty  thousand  drunkards  die  yearly 
ia  this  country,  and  that  one  half  of  the  insanity, 
two  thirds  of  the  pauperism,  and  three  fourths  of 
the  crimes  of  the  land,  are  the  consequences  of 
drunkenness.  A  large  proportion  of  drunkards, 
begin  this  dreadful  habit  in  youth.  It  is  a  most 
fatal  thing  for  morality,  that  drinking  usages  are 
so  interwoven  with  all  our  habits.  Drinking  is 
the  symbol  of  hospitality ;  the  pledge  of  friend- 
ship ;  the  sign  of  conviviality  ;  the  ratification  of 
bargains.  It  is  the  accompaniment  of  weddings, 
baptisms,  and  burials.  The  bottle  meets  us  every 
where.  Fifty  millions  sterling  are  annually  spent 
by  these  united  kingdoms  in  intoxicating  liquors, 
in  promoting  disease,  insanity,  pauperism,  and 


DANGER.  30 

crime  :  in  ruining  men's  bodies,  and  damning  their 
souls.  I  do  not  say  that  this  is  strictly  applicable 
to  the  whole  of  what  is  thus  spent:  because  many 
drink  only  in  moderation,  and  some  invalids  actu- 
ally for  health ;  but  I  fear  by  far  the  larger  por- 
tion of  it  is  drank  with  no  other  result.  I  again 
say,  and  with  all  possible  emphasis,  Begin  life 
with  a  horror  of  drunkenness.  Watch  against  a 
love  of  wine.  As  one  who  has  practised  total 
abstinence  for  three  years,  I  can,  and  do  recom- 
mend it  to  all  persons  in  health,  and  especially  to 
youth.  It  rnay  seem  like  a  truism,  and  mere 
puerility,  but  it  is  an  impressive  truism,  which 
amidst  the  fearful  desolations  of  intemperance  is 
not  without  salutary  warning.  "He  that  does 
not  drink  intoxicating  liquors,  can  never  become  a 
drunkard."  The  young  man  who  has  acquired  a 
relish  for  wine;  who  always  drinks  it  when  he 
can  get  it ;  who  drinks  as  much  as  is  given  him, 
or  he  can  afford  to  purchase  ;  who  avails  himself 
of  the  dinner  or  supper  party,  to  go  as  far  as  he 
can  without  actual  intoxication, — is  already  an 
incipient  tippler  ;  and  if  he  does  not  stop  at  once, , 
and  practise  total  abstinence,  or,  at  any  rate, 
watch  his  propensity,  and  lay  down  rules  of  the 
most  rigid  temperance,  will,  in  all  probability,  be- 
come a  confirmed  drunkard. 

4.  Perhaps,  the  discomfort  of  your  situation  ex- 
'poses  you  to  perils. 

It  is  not  to  be  expected  by  any  youth  who  has 
had  the  blessing  of  a  comfortable  home,  that  he 


40  DANGER. 

should  find  the  same  degree,  or  kind  of  provision 
made  for  his  enjoyment  in  any  situation  in  which, 
on  going  out  into  the  world,  he  may  be  placed : 
oftentimes  the  very  reverse  occurs,  and  his  new 
domicil  presents  a  melancholy  contrast  to  the- 
house  of  his  father.  Perhaps  you,  my  reader,  may 
be  thus  circumstanced.  Your  place  of  abode  is  so 
utterly  comfortless,  that  you  can  scarcely  think 
of  home  without  tears.  It  is  not  only  that  your 
fare  is  coarse,  your  lodgings  mean,  and  your  work 
hard :  you  could  bear  all  this,  if  your  privations 
were  made  up  by  the  kindness  and  sympathy  of 
your  employer,  and  your  labors  "were  softened  by 
his  obvious  and  expressed  satisfaction  :  but  proba- 
bly he  is  a  tyrant,  whom  nothing  can  satisfy  or 
conciliate,  or  his  wife  is  a  termagant,  whom  nothing 
can  please.  Many  a  time  you  retire  to  your  hard 
bed,  and  ill-furnished  room,  with  a  spirit  discour- 
aged, and  a  heart  half  broken.  Oh  what  a  contrast 
is  this  cold,  unfeeling,  and  grinding  conduct,  to  the 
love  of  a  fond  mother,  and  the  solicitude  of  a  kind 
father.  In  such  a  situation,  you  are  in  danger  of 
several  things  likely  to  be  injurious  to  your  moral 
welfare  and  future  prosperity.  Some  have  been 
induced  by  the  pressure  of  their  misery  to  abscond, 
In  an  unhappy  hour,  they  have  listened  to  the 
voice  of  temptation,  and  have  suddenly  burst  the 
bonds  which  they  could  not  loose,  and  cast  off 
the  yoke  which  they  felt  to  be  intolerable,  and  ran. 
away.  This  is  a  desperate  and  dreadful  remedy  • 
and  has  in  most  cases  proved  a  ruinous  ones 


DANGER.  41 

Never  let  such  a  thought  be  entertained  for  a  mo- 
ment. Bear  any  unkindness,  oppression,  and  mis- 
ery, rather  than  do  this.  A  youth  who  runs  away 
from  his  place,  is  usually  a  blighted  character  for 
life.  He  is  sunk  in  his  own  estimation,  and  in 
that  of  every  one  else.  What  anxiety  does  such 
a  step  bring  on  his  parents  if  they  are  living,  and 
on  all  his  other  friends!  Remain  then  in  your 
place:  the  term  of  apprenticeship  will  soon  ex- 
pire :  it  is  not  a  captivity  for  life.  Endeavour  to 
sustain  your  ill  treatment  with  courage  and  pa- 
tience. Meekness  may  vanquish  your  oppressor. 
But  perhaps  you  are  a  clerk,  and  not  an  appren- 
tice, and  as  you  do  not  dwell  in  the  house  of  your 
employer,  you  are  not  exposed  to  the  same  kind  of 
discomfort  and  annoyance  which  those  suffer  who 
do.  You  live  in  private  lodgings.  Your  perils  are 
therefore  of  another  kind.  Instead  of  being  now 
surrounded  with  all  the  dear  companions  of  home, 
and  delighting  in  that  busy  scene  of  genuine  love, 
and  tender  offices,  you  dwell  solitarily  among 
strangers.  When  the  business  of  the  day  is  over, 
you  go  to  a  cheerless  and  silent  abode.  No  mother's 
smiling  countenance  welcomes  you  to  the  fireside ; 
no  father's  cheerful  voice  tells,  or  asks  the  events 
of  the  day;  no  brother  or  sister  calls  you  by  name, 
and  blithely  sports  with  you.  Instead  of  this,  you 
receive  no  attention  but  that  which  is  bought  with 
money.  You  enter  your  lonely  room,  eat  your  joy- 
less meal,  and  in  sadness  think  of  home,  and  days 
gone  by.  Now  there  is  danger  here :  danger  of 


42  DANGER. 

seeking  companions  who  may  be  unmeet ;  danger 
of  going  out  to  find  amusement  in  places  of  vicious 
resort ;  or  of  adopting  a  course  of  reading  that  will 
only  pollute  the  mind.  It  is  impossible  to  overrate 
the  peril  of  a  young  man  who  has  lately  left  his 
father's  house,  and  is  set  down  in  solitary  lodgings 
in  one  of  our  large  provincial  towns,  and  especially 
in  the  metropolis.  If  he  has  not  piety  to  preserve 
him,  or  fixed  moral  principle,  or  a  love  of  reading 
and  thirst  for  knowledge,  so  as  to  make  books  his 
companions,  he  is  in  great  temptation.  With  all 
the  sources  of  sinful  pleasure  open  around  him, 
and  in  the  midst  of  a  multitude  hastening  to  drink 
their  deleterious  waters;  with  all  the  seductions 
near  that  appeal  to  every  sense,  every  appetite, 
and  every  taste ;  it  is  more  than  probable  that  he 
will  be  drawn  from  his  gloomy  abode,  to  those 
scenes  where  blaze  all  the  lights  of  fashion,  folly, 
and  ruin.  The  first  scruples  of  conscience  being 
subdued,  the  temptation  being  once  successful, 
continuance  and  advance  seem  almost  necessary. 
In  addition  to  the  dreariness  of  solitude,  he  has 
now  the  pangs  of  self-reproach  to  bear.  And  can 
he  sit  there  night  after  night,  to  hear  the  accusa- 
tions of  that  internal  monitor  whose  indignant  re- 
buke he  has  provoked,  and  the  sentence  of  that 
severe  judge  whose  condemnation  he  has  procur- 
ed ?  No.  He  must  go  again  to  the  sounds  of  rev- 
elry, to  drown  the  voice,  and  to  the  scenes  of  mirth 
to  lose  the  sight  of  his  awful  reprover.  A  young 
man  in  lodgings,  is  thus  in  a  situation  where 


DANGEK,  43 

nothing  but  decided  piety,  or  strong  moral  princi- 
ple, can  be  expected  to  preserve  him  from  temp- 
tation. 

5.  There  is  another  danger  to  which  your  new 
situation  may  expose  you,  against  which  you 
should  be  cautioned,  and  directed  to  exercise  the 

•  greatest  vigilance:  and  that  is,  the  violation  of 

\  the  rule  of  honesty. 

If  placed  in  a  retail  shop,  money  will  be  con- 
tinually passing  through  your  hands,  and  much 
uncounted  cash  will  be  within  your  reach.  The 
temptation  may,  perhaps,  in  certain  circumstances 
arise,  to  appropriate  a  part  of  this  to  your  own  use. 
It  may  be,  your  supply  of  pocket  money  is  short, 
and  you  find  yourself  below  some  of  your  acquaint- 
ances in  the  means  of  procuring  clothes,  books,  or 
amusements.  When  the  prospect  of  concealment 
presents  itself,  and  the  pressure  of  necessity  is  ur- 
gent, especially  if  aided  by  the  hope  and  intention 
of  refunding  at  some  future  time  what  you  purloin, 
you  are  in  imminent  peril  of  the  sin  of  embezzle- 
ment. Many,  very  many,  have  fallen  into  the 
snare,  and  have  had  their  character  and  prospects 
blasted  for  ever.  Enter  life  determined,  by  God's 
help,  to  follow  whatsoever  things  are  honest,  true, 
lovely,  and  of  good  report.  Let  the  fear  of  God, 
united  with  the  love  of  the  noble,  honourable,  and 
dignified,  prevent  you  from  ever  appropriating  to 
yourself  a  farthing  of  your  employer's  property. 
Even  should  you  not  be  detected,  how  degraded 
will  you  feel,  if  you  have  in  any  instance  acted  the 


44  DANGER. 

part  of  a  pilferer.  It  is  a  painful  thing  for  con- 
science  to  cry  "  thief,"  though  a  man  may  be  spared 
the  degradation  of  public  exposure.  On  the  other 
hand,  how  pleasant  will  be  the  recollection  through 
life,  that  though  exposed  to  many  and  strong 
temptations,  your  hands  were  pure  from  dishon- 
esty. Be  this  your  prayer,  "  Let  integrity  and  up- 
rightness preserve  me,"  Psa.  xxv.  21. 

An  eminent  Christian  minister,  in  relating  to  me 
the  events  of  his  early  life,  mentioned,  with  a  fervid 
glow  of  delight  and  thankfulness,  the  victory  which 
he  gained  in  youth  over  a  strong  temptation  to 
commit  an  act  of  dishonesty.  Some  circumstances, 
which  need  not  here  be  detailed,  led  him  to  the 
resolution  of  running  away  from  his  place  where 
he  was  serving  an  apprenticeship.  On  leaving  the 
house,  which  he  did  in  the  morning,  before  the 
family  was  stirring,  he  had  to  pass  through  a  small 
room  in  which  his  master  usually  sat.  On  the 
table  lay  a  small  heap  of  gold,  silver,  and  copper, 
carelessly  mixed  together,  and  from  which,  as  he 
was  quite  sure  it  was  uncounted,  a  small  sum  ab- 
stracted by  himself  would  not  be  missed.  He  stop- 
ped and  looked  at  it,  and  as  he  looked  he  coveted. 
The  temptation  was  strong.  He  was  going  out 
upon  the  wide  world,  with  scarcely  anything  in  his 
pocket.  His  stock  of  clothes  was  low,  all  he  had 
was  on  his  back,  and  in  a  bundle  in  his  hand.  He 
reasoned  with  himself  about  his  scanty  means,  the 
certainty  that  anything  he  took  would  not  be  mis- 
sed, and  the  probability  of  his  being  able  to  refund, 


DANGER.  45 

in  more  prosperous  days,  what  he  might  now  ap- 
propriate in  the  season  of  his  necessity;  but  his 
belter  thoughts  prevailed,  and,  gathering  up  his 
remaining  principle  of  virtuous  integrity,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  No,  I  am  wronging  my  master  enough 
in  leaving  his  service;  1  will  not  take  his  money 
too."  And  with  only  half-a-crown  in  his  pocket 
he  went  out  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  world  ;  bin 
still  he  had  the  testimony  of  his  conscience,  that 
though  a  runaway,  lie  was,  as  far  as  money  was 
concerned,  an  honest  youth.  He  assured  me,  that 
lie  had  never  ceased  to  reflect  upon  this  triumph 
over  temptation  with  pleasure  and  thankfulness. 
His  future  destiny,  perhaps,  hung  upon  that  de- 
cision. Had  he  purloined  any  of  the  money,  his 
conscience  might  have  been  benumbed,  his  heart 
hardened,  his  self-respect  lost,  and  his  future  char- 
acter become  profligate  and  depraved. 

Reader  you  may  not,  I  trust  you  will  not  be 
placed  exactly  in  the  circumstances  of  trial  this 
young  man  was  ;  but,  if  disposed  to  avail  yourself 
of  it,  an  opportunity  will  often  present  itself  of  em- 
bezzling your  employer's  property,  which  I  hope 
you  will  ever  have  the  principle  to  resist.  There 
is  nothing  more  likely  to  expose  you  to  this  danger, 
than  habits  of  extravagance.  If  you  should  un- 
happily acquire  a  taste  for  expensive  dress,  or 
amusements,  or  vicious  gratifications,  you  are  i 
peril.  Dishonesty  often  begins  in  dandyism.  A 
young  man  thinks  he  must  be  genteel,  elegant, 
fashionablej  he  looks  with  envy  on  those  whose 


46  DANGER. 

means  are  more  abundant  than  his  own,  and  be- 
comes restless  and  dissatisfied.  He  must,  he  will 
be  equal  to  them  in  clothes,  ornaments,  and  diver- 
sions ;  but  his  salary,  or  his  father's  allowance,  will 
not  meet  his  wants,  and  then  comes  the  temptation 
to  embezzlement.  Extravagance  must  have  re- 
sources; and  if  they  cannot  be  found  by  honest 
means,  they  will  by  dishonest  ones.  A  love  of  dis- 
play in  dress  and  diversions  has  led  many  to  the 
gallows,  or  to  Botany  Bay,  by  prompting  for  it  to 
pilfering  and  then  to  forgery.  Be  upon  your  guard 
then.  Avoid  extravagance.  Dread  all  foppery. 
Determine  to  live  within  your  income.  Begin  life 
with  the  resolution  to  be  neat  and  respectable,  but 
not  a  fine  gentleman.  Be  it  your  fixed  purpose 
never  to  have  an  article  till  you  can  pay  for  it. 

6.  I  close  this  fearful  list  of  perils,  by  mention- 
ing the  prevalence  of  infidelity,  and  the  zeal  and 
wily  arts  of  its  abettors  and  propagators,  as  form- 
ing another  source  of  danger  to  youth. 

Not  that  even  home  is  inaccessible  to  this  pest, 
and  altogether  safe  from  its  contagion  ;  but  there 
is  greater  risk  of  it  abroad  than  beneath  the  parent- 
al roof.  There  never  was  an  age  when  infidelity 
was  more  busy  than  it  is  now:  not  that  it  is  now 
more  generally  professed  by  the  thinking  and  in- 
telligent portion  of  the  community  ;  quite  the  con- 
trary. Literature  and  science,  rank  and  fashion, 
pay  far  more  external,  though  it  may  not  be  sincere 
homage  to  revelation,  than  they  did  in  times  gone 
by  :  infidelity  as  a  profession  is  no  longer  the  boast 


DANGER.  47 

of  those  who  occupy  the  high  places  of  society. 
Religion  is  obviously  gaining  ground  among  them. 
But  the  efforts  of  infidels  to  diffuse  their  principles 
among  the  common  people,  and  middling  classes, 
are  peculiarly  energetic  just  now.  The  subtleties 
of  Hume,  the  pompous  deism  of  Bolingbroke, 
and  the  artful  insinuations  of  Gibbon,  have  given 
place  to  the  ribaldries  of  Paine,  and  the  more  recent 
absurdities  of  Owen.  The  system,  if  system  it 
may  be  called,  of  the  latter,  is  obtruded  upon  public 
notice  under  the  guise  of  an  attractive  misnomer, 
and  pushed  forward  with  a  zeal  which  reminds  us 
of  the  activity  of  its  parent,  the  father  of  lies. 
Absurd  in  its  principles,  contradictory  to  every 
man's  sound  judgment,  and  repudiated  even  by 
the  conscience  of  its  abettors,  socialism  cannot  long 
impose  upon  the  credulity  of  even  the  labouring 
classes,  among  whom  it  has  yet  been  chiefly  suc- 
cessful. Amidst  a  jargon  of  pretended  metaphys- 
ics, at  war  with  the  first  principles  of  sound  logic 
and  our  moral  constitution,  it  announces  as  its 
leading  dogma,  that  man  is  entirely  the  creature 
of  circumstances,  is  in  no  sense  the  author  of  his 
opinions  and  volitions,  nor  the  founder  or  supporter 
of  his  own  character.  If  this  be  correct,  he  is  a 
mere  machine,  gifted  with  faculties  which  can  be 
of  no  use  to  him ;  without  freedom,  without  re- 
sponsibility, without  conscience ;  to  whom  it  is 
useless  to  offer  inducements,  and  on  whom  in- 
struction is  wasted ;  so  circumstanced  by  necessity, 
that  he  can  neither  originate,  nor  sustain  any  self- 


48  BANGER. 

improvement ;  a  being,  in  reference  to  whom  law 
is  mockery,  sin  impossible,  and  punishment  injus- 
tice. As  if  it  were  not  enough  to  shock  the  public 
mind  by  a  system  so  monstrous;  the  public  taste, 
and  all  our  social  feelings  are  outraged,  by  the  un* 
blushing  avowal  of  its  author,  that  it  is  his  design 
and  wish  to  abolish  the  institution  of  marriage, 
and  reconstruct  society  upon  the  basis  of  the  un* 
legalized  association  of  the  sexes,  and  the  unre- 
stricted freedom  of  divorce.  Absurd  and  demoral- 
izing as  such  a  system  is,  it  is  popular  with  many  ; 
the  reason  is  obvious,  its  very  immorality  proves 
to  them  its  recommendation.  If  they  can  believe 
it,  they  feel  that,  commit  what  crimes  they  may* 
accountability  is  gone,  and  remorse  is  extinguished : 
the  blame  rests  not  on  them^  for  any  sin  whatever^ 
but  on  the  circumstances  which  led  to  it :  a  short 
way  to  be  very  wicked,  and  yet  very  easy ! 

Young  man,  can  you  believe  it  !  No,  your  rea* 
son  revolts  from  it,  and  so  would  your  heart  too, 
if  you  could  witness  the  moral  ravages  it  has  com* 
mitted.  "  Call  it  not  socialism,  call  it  devilism ; 
for  it  has  made  me  more  a  devil  than  a  man," 
exclaimed  a  poor  dying  man,  in  my  neighbourhood, 
to  one  of  our  town  missionaries  who  visited  him 
on  his  death  bed.  "  I  got  into  company  that  led 
me  to  socialism,  and  to  drinking.  I  rejected  the 
Bible,  denied  the  Saviour,  and  persuaded  myself 
that  there  was  no  hereafter;  and  as  the  result, 
acted  the  part  of  a  bad  father,  and  a  bad  husband. 
1  have  the  testimony  of  my  master  that  I  was  a 


DANGER.  '  49 

steady  and  respectable  man  until  I  listened  to  the 
Owenites ;  Lut  since  that  time  I  have  become  a 
vagabond,  and  they  who  formerly  knew  me,  have 
shunned  me  in  the  streets.  The  system  of  the 
Owenites  is  worse  than  that  of  Paine."  Such  is 
the  testimony  of  a  dying  victim  and  martyr  of 
socialism,  and  a  similar  confession  has  been  made 
by  many  others.  I  have  seen  the  husband,  once 
moral,  happy,  and  useful,  so  long  as  he  professed 
religion ;  and  have  seen  him  in  his  misery,  poverty, 
and  ruin,  since  he  has  thrown  it  off:  I  have  heard 
the  impassioned  accents  of  his  heart-broken  wife, 
so  far  as  weakness  allowed  her  to  be  impassioned, 
exclaiming  as  she  looked  at  her  miserable  com- 
panion, "  Oh  sir,  he  has  been  a  changed  man  ever 
since  he  went  among  the  Owenites!"  Such  is 
socialism. 

Can  you  wonder  then  at  the  anxiety  of  your 
parents  on  your  leaving  home,  knowing  as  they  do, 
the  prevalence  of  this  dreadful  system,  and  the  zeal 
of  its  supporters  ?  Beware  of  this  moral  poison ; 
for  poison  it  is  of  the  deadliest  kind.  This,  how- 
ever, is  not  the  only  kind  of  infidelity,  nor  are 
these  the  only  infidels  of  whom  you  should  be 
afraid.  Infidels  are  to  be  found  everywhere,  and 
everywhere,  like  the  great  adversary,  they  go 
about  like  a  roaring  lion,  seeking  whom  they  may 
devour,  or  like  the  wily  serpent,  endeavouring  to 
kill  by  the  arts  of  subtlety.  Young  people  are 
chiefly  their  objects,  and  their  victims.  It  must 
be  obvious,  that  between  immorality  and  infidelity 
5 


there  is  a  close  connexion,  and  a  constant  re-action 
going  on  in  some  minds.  A  young  man  falls  into 
temptation,  and  commits  sin :  instead  of  repenting, 
as  is  his  duty,  and  his  interest,  he  in  many  cases 
attempts  to  quiet  his  conscience  by  persuading 
himself  that  religion  is  all  hypocrisy,  and  the 
Bible  untrue.  His  infidelity  now  prepares  him  to 
go  greater  lengths  in  sin :  thus  vice  calls  in  the 
aid  of  error,  and  error  strengthens  vice,  while  both 
together  lead  their  victim  to  ruin  and  misery. 

To  guard  yourself  against  such  dangers,  study 
well  the  evidences  of  revelation  ;  read  Paley, 
Chalmers,  and  Watson:  but  above  all,  let  the 
power  of  religion  be  felt  in  your  heart,  as  well  as 
the  evidence  of  it  perceived  by  your  judgment. 
Religion  in  the  heart  is  the  only  thing  to  be  relied 
upon  as  a  defence  against  the  attacks  of  infidels, 
and  the  influence  of  their  principles.  But  this 
will  be  insisted  upon'at  greater  length  in  a  subse- 
quent chapter. 

Such  are  the  most  common  and  pressing  dangers, 
to  which  youth  are  exposed  on  quitting  the  protec- 
tion of  the  parental  habitation,  and  going  from  be- 
neath the  sheltering  wing  of  paternal  care.  "  I 
send  you  forth,"  said  the  Saviour  to  his  disciples, 
"  as  sheep  among  wolves;"  and  the  same  remark 
may  be  made  by  parents  to  their  children,  substi- 
tuting the  term  lambs,  for  sheep,  when  they  place 
them  out  in  this  wicked  and  ensnaring  world.  It 
has  been  a  dark  day  in  the  annals  of  myriads  of 
families,  when  a  son  bade  adieu  to  his  parents,  and 


DANGER.  51 

commenced  his  probation  and  his  struggles  in  the 
great  business  of  human  life.  The  tears  that  fell 
on  that  occasion,  were  a  sad  presage,  though  un- 
known at  the  time,  of  others  that  were  to  flow  in 
long  succession  over  the  follies,  vices,  and  miseries 
of  that  unhappy  youth.  The  history  of  ten  thou- 
sand prodigal  sons;  the  untimely  graves  of  ten 
thousand  broken-hearted  parents ;  and  the  deep 
and  heavy  woes  of  ten  thousand  dishonored  fami- 
lies, attest  the  fact  of  the  dangers  that  await  a 
youth  on  leaving  home :  and  he  is  most  in  danger, 
who  is  ignorant  of  what  awaits  him,  or  who,  on 
being  informed,  treats  the  subject  with  indiffer- 
ence, smiles  at  the  fears  of  his  friends,  and  feels 
no  fear  for  himself.  Young  man,  there  is  hope  of 
you  if  this  representation  shall  awaken  alarm, 
produce  self-distrust,  and  excite  vigilance  and  cau- 
tion. Inexperienced,  sanguine,  and  rash,  with  all 
your  appetites  sharpening,  and  all  your  passions 
strengthening,  with  an  imagination  lively,  a  curi- 
osity prurient,  and  a  heart  susceptible ;  eager  to 
act  for  yourself,  panting  to  try  your  scarcely  fledged 
wings  on  leaving  the  nest,  and  perhaps  ambitious 
of  distinction,  you  are  in  imminent  peril  of  the 
lusts  of  the  flesh,  and  of  the  mind.  All  but  your- 
self are  anxious.  Pause,  and  consider  what  you 
may  become, — an  ornament  of  the  profession  you 
have  chosen,  a  respectable  member  of  society,  a 
holy  professor  of  religion,  a  useful  citizen  of  your 
country,  a  benefactor  of  your  species,  arid  a  light 
of  the  world.  But  according  to  the  height  to 


52  DANfiER. 

which  you  may  rise,  is  the  depth  to  which  you 
may  sink :  for  as  the  bottom  of  the  ocean  is  sup- 
posed to  be  proportioned  in  measurement  to  the 
tops  of  the  mountains,  so  the  dark  gulfs  of  sin  and 
perdition  into  which  you  may  plunge  sustain  a 
similar  relation  to  the  summits  of  excellence  and 
happiness  to  which  you  may  ascend.  Your  capa- 
city for  ruin  is  equal  to  what  it  is  for  salvation. 
Survey  for  a  moment  the  sphere  which  you  may 
occupy  and  fill  up  with  misery,  desolation,  and 
ruin.  See  what  opportunities  of  destruction  are 
within  your  reach,  and  to  what  suicidal  and  mur- 
derous havoc  sin  may  lead  you,  if  you  give  your- 
self up  to  its  influence  and  government. 

You  may  destroy  your  physical  constitution  by  a 
more  slow,  but  not  less  sure  process,  than  if  you 
swallowed  arsenic,  or  employed  a  pistol.  There 
are  vices  of  the  flesh  that  bring  their  own  immedi- 
ate punishment  in  the  diseases  which  they  entail. 
The  martyrs  of  licentiousness  are  far  more  numer- 
ous, and  the  amount  of  their  sufferings  inconceiv- 
ably greater,  than  the  martyrs  for  religion.  Millions 
die  annually,  the  victims  of  drunkenness  and  de- 
bauchery, who  long  before  the  grave  receives 
them  to  its  dark  domain,  present  a  Jhideous  and 
loathsome  mass  of  corruption. 

Your  pecuniary  interests  may  be  ruined.  Many 
on  whom  the  morning  of  life  dawned  with  sun- 
shine, and  its  prospects  opened  in  beauty,  have 
seen  their  orb  suddenly  go  down,  and  all  the  scene 
covered  with  clouds,  and  ravaged  with  the  storms 


DANGER.  53 

of  adversity;  not  that  Providence  was  against 
them,  not  that  man  was  unjust  to  them,  but  they 
were  the  destroyers  of  their  own  interests,  by 
habits  of  extravagance,  indolence,  and  indulgence, 
acquired  in  youth.  You  can  blast  your  reputation. 
After  building  up  with  great  care  your  good  name, 
for  some  years,  and  acquiring  respect  and  esteem 
fro  n  those  who  knew  you,  "  in  one  single  hour, 
by  yielding  to  some  powerful  temptation,  you  may 
fix  a  dark  stain  upon  your  character,  which  no 
tears  can  ever  wash  away,  or  repentance  remove, 
but  which  will  cause  you  to  be  read  and  known  of 
all  men,  till  the  grave  receives  you  out  of  their 
sight.  You  may  render  yourself  an  object  of  the 
universal  disgust  and  abhorrence  of  the  good,  and 
be  the  taunt  and  scorn  of  the  wicked ;  so  that 
wherever  you  turn  your  eyes,  you  will  find  none 
to  bestow  on  you  a  single  smile  of  complacency. 
How  many  in  this  condition,  bitterly  realizing 
that,  '  without  a  friend,  the  world  is  but  a  wil- 
derness,' have,  in  a  paroxysm  of  desperation, 
committed  suicide."  Your  intellect,  strong  by 
nature,  and  capable  of  high  cultivation,  may,  like  a 
fine  flower,  be  suffered  to  run  wild  by  neglect,  be 
trodden  down  by  brute  lusts,  or  be  broken  by  vio- 
lence. Your  affections,  given  to  be  your  deligbt 
by  virtuous  exercise  on  right  objects,  may  be  all 
perverted  so  as  to  become  like  so  many  demons, 
possessing  and  tormenting  your  soul,  because  they 
are  set  on  things  forbidden,  and  indulged  to  excess. 
Your  conscience,  gran«.tii  t.o  be  your  monitor,  guide, 


54  DANGER. 

and  friend,  may  be  wounded,  benumbed,  seared, 
till  it  is  insensible,  silent,  and  deaf,  and  of  no  use 
in  warning  you  against  sin,  in  restraining  or  re- 
proving you  for  it.  In  short,  you  may  destroy 
your  immortal  soul,  and  what  ruin  is  like  that  of 
the  soul,  so  immense,  so  horrible,  so  irretrievable? 
Here  the  matter  ends — no,  rather  never  ends  with 
yourself;  and  it  extends  to  others  also :  you  may 
break  the  hearts  of  your  parents,  make  youi 
brothers  and  sisters  ashamed  to  own  you,  be  a 
nuisance  and  pest  to  society,  a  bane  to  your  coun- 
try, the  corrupter  of  youthful  morals,  the  seducer 
of  female  virtue,  the  consumer  of  the  property  of 
your  friends,  and,  to  reach  the  climax  of  your 
mischief,  you  may  be  the  Apollyon  of  the  circle 
of  immortal  souls  in  which  you  move,  sending 
some  to  perdition  before  you  reach  it  yourself,  and 
causing  others  to  follow  you  to  the  bottomless  pit, 
where  you  shall  never  escape  the  sight  of  their 
torments,  nor  the  sound  of  their  imprecations.* 

How  great  the  power  of  sin,  and  how  malignant 
its  virulence,  that  can  spread  its  influence  so  widely, 
and  exert  its  force  with  such  deadly  effect,  not 
only  destroying  the  sinner  himself,  but  involving 
others  in  his  ruin  !  No  man  goes,  alone  to  perdi- 
tion, no  one  perishes  alone  in  his  iniquity;  a  con- 
sideration which  every  transgressor  should  regard : 

*  See  two  admirable  papers  in  The  Visitor  for  Janu- 
ary and  February,  1839,  entitled,  "  The  Dangers  of 
Young  Men." 


DANGER.  55 

he  sustains  the  character  not  only  of  a  suicide,  but 
of  a  murderer,  and  of  all  murderers  the  worst,  for 
he  is  the  murderer  of  souls. 

What  a  critical  position  you  now  occupy,  be- 
tween the  capability  of  rising  to  so  much  excel- 
lence; or  sinking  to  ruin  so  deep,  and  misery  so 
intense!  Reflect.  Oh  that  you  were  wise ;  that 
you  understood  this ;  that  you  would  consider  your 
latter  end. 


56  YOUNG  MEN  LED  ASTRAT, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  PROGRESSIVE  MANNER  AND  SUCCESSIVE  STEPS  BY 
WHICH  MANY  YOUNG  MEN  ARE  LED  ASTRAY. 

IF  it  is  a  melancholy  fact,  which  the  history  of 
innumerable  families  can  verify,  that  many  young 
men,  who  leave  home  in  every  respect  moraJ  and 
respectable,  become  vicious,  and  end  their  course 
in  profligacy  and  ruin,  an  inquiry  presents  itself 
concerning  the  steps  which  lead  to  this  dreadful 
reverse  of  character  and  circumstances.  It  rarely, 
if  ever,  happens,  that  the  heart  throws  off  at  once 
all  the  restraints  of  virtue,  and  plunges  suddenly 
into  the  depths  of  vice.  It  is  not  by  one  vast  stride 
that  the  moral  youth  passes  from  sober  habits  at 
home  to  those  of  an  opposite  nature  abroad,  but 
generally  by  slow  and  successive  steps.  The 
judgment  and  conscience  would  recoil  from  a 
temptation  which  proposed  to  him  to  become  prof- 
ligate at  once  ;  and  if  he  ever  be  an  adept  in  vice, 
he  must  be  led  on  by  insensible  degrees,  and  by 
little  and  little  make  advances  in  the  way  of  sin- 
ners, and  the  counsels  of  the  ungodly.  This  is 
what  is  meant  by  the  deceitfulness  of  sin. 

What  individual  who  ever  attained  to  enormity 
ol  wcKedne^s,  foresaw,  or  conjectured  the  end  of 
his  career?  When  tiie  messenger  ot  Heaven  dss- 
ciosed  to  Ildzael  the  Syrian,  the  darkness  of  ass 


YOUNG  MEN  LED  ASTRAY.  57 

future  character,  he  indignantly  exclaimed,  "Is 
thy  servant  a  dog,  that  he  should  do  this?"  It 
was  a  burst  of  honest  indignation.  At  that  time 
he  was  incapable  of  the  atrocities  which  it  was 
foretold  he  should  one  day  commit,  and  his  whole 
nature  rose  in  an  expression  of  sincere  abhorrence. 
He  knew  not  thedeceitfulness  of  his  heart,  nor  the 
corrupting  influence  of  ambition  and  power.  He 
was  led  on  by  a  gradual  progress  in  his  guilty 
career,  till  the  events  of  his  history  surpassed  iu 
criminality  the  picture  drawn  by  the  prophet. 
Who  that  ever  ended  his  days  at  the  gallows,  or 
in  the  felon's  exile,  would  at  one  period  of  his  life 
have  thought  it  possible  that  he  should  ever  be  so 
hardened  as  to  commit  such  crimes  ?  Habit  ren- 
ders all  things  easy,  even  the  most  atrocious 
crimes ;  and  habits  of  vice,  like  other  habits,  begin 
with  acts,  many  of  them  little  ones.  The  most 
alarming  view  of  sin  therefore,  and  that  which 
should  excite  the  greatest  dread,  caution,  and  vigi- 
lance, is  its  progressive  nature. 

I  have  somewhere  read  of  one  who  lived  in  the 
early  ages  of  the  Christian  era,  who,  on  being  asked 
by  a  friend  to  accompany  him  to  the  amphitheatre, 
to  witness  the  gladiatorial  combats  with  wild 
beasts,  expressed  his  abhorrence  of  the  sport,  and 
refused  to  witness  a  scene  condemned  alike  by 
humanity  and  Christianity.  Overcome  at  length, 
by  the  continued  and  pressing  solicitation  of  his 
friend,  whom  he  did  not  wish  to  disoblige,  he 
consented  to  go ;  but  determined  that  he  would 


58  YCUNG  MEN  LED  ASTKAY. 

close  his  eyes  as- soon  as  he  had  taken  hi§  seat, 
and  keep  them  closed  during  the  whole  time  he 
was  in  the  amphitheatre.  At  some  particular 
display  of  strength  and  skill  by  one  of  the  com- 
batants, a  loud  shout  of  applause  was  raised  by 
the  spectators,  when  the  Christian  almost  invol- 
untarily opened  his  eyes:  being  once  open,  he 
found  it  difficult  to  close  them  again ;  he  became 
interested  in  the  fate  of  the  gladiator,  who  was 
then  engaged  with  a  lion.  He  returned  home 
professing  to  dislike,  as  his  principles  required  him 
to  do,  these  cruel  games;  but  his  imagination  ever 
and  anon  reverted  to  the  scenes  he  had  uninten- 
tionally witnessed.  He  was  again  solicited  by  his 
friend  to  see  the  sport.  He  found  less  difficulty 
now  than  before  in  consenting.  He  went,  sat 
with  his  eyes  open,  and  enjoyed  the  spectacle ; 
again  and  again  he  took  his  seat  with  the  pagan 
crowd;  till  at  length  he  became  a  constant  at- 
tendant at  the  amphitheatre,  abandoned  his  Chris- 
tian profession,  relapsed  into  idolatry,  and  left  a 
fatal  proof  of  the  deceitfulness  of  sin.* 

Thousands  of  facts  to  the  same  purport  might 
be  collected,  if  it  were  necessary,  tending  to  illus- 
trate the  insidious  manner  in  which  the  trans- 
gressor is  led  on,  in  his  gradual  descent  into  the 
gulf  of  ruin.  Let  us  gather  up  the  substance  of 
the  preceding  chapters,  and  trace  the  wanderer 

*  See  my  book,  entitled,  The  Christian  Father's 
Present  to  his  Children. 


YOUNG  MEN  LED  ASTRAY.  59 

through  his  sinful  course.  Perhaps  before  he  left 
his  father's  house  he  was  not  only  strictly  moral, 
but  was  the  subject  of  religious  impressions; 
convinced  of  sin,  and  an  inquirer  after  salva- 
tion. He  heard  sermons  with  interest,  kept  holy 
the  sabbath,  and  made  conscience  of  secret  prayer 
and  reading  the  Scriptures.  His  conduct  had 
awakened  the  hopes  of  his  parents,  and  raised  the 
expectations  of  his  minister;  but  he  was  not  de- 
cided ;  there  had  been  no  actual  surrender  of  his 
heart  to  God,  through  faith,  repentance,  and  the 
new  birth.  In  this  state  of  mind,  he  left  home. 
Instead  of  taking  alarm,  as  he  should  have  done, 
at  the  dangers  to  which  he  was  now  about  to  be 
exposed,  he  went  thoughtlessly  to  his  new  situa- 
tion, and  encountered  its  perils  without  due  pre- 
paration. In  his  place  he  found  little  to  encour- 
age, perhaps  something,  or  even  much,  to  damp 
and  discourage  serious  reflection.  The  preacher 
whose  ministrations  he  attended  was  less  impres- 
sive and  exciting  than  the  one  he  had  left.  The 
master  whom  he  served,  took  little  care  of  his 
spiritual  welfare.  Amidst  these  circumstances, 
his  religious  impressions  were  soon  lost,  and  his 
concern  speedily  subsided.  Still  he  could  not  at 
once  give  up  the  forms  of  devotion,  and  for  awhile 
kept  up  the  practice  of  private  prayer,  but  having 
no  separate  room,  he  soon  became  ashamed  to  be 
seen  falling  upon  his  knees  in  the  presence  of  gay 
or  thoughtless  companions,  who  slept  in  the  same 
apartment,  and  who  perhaps  sneered  at  the  prao 


60  YOUNG  MEN  LED  ASTRAY. 

tice.  This  is  a  temptation  to  which  many  are 
exposed,  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  successful  in  in- 
ducing young  persons  to  give  up  the  habit  of 
prayer.  He  could  not,  however,  quite  relinquish  a 
practice  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed  from 
childhood,  and  occasionally  he  stole  away  to  his 
room,  and  spent  a  few  moments  in  devotion, 
This  too  in  time  was  given  up,  and  prayer  wholly 
discontinued.  A  great  restraint  was  now  removed, 
and  a  barrier  thrown  down**  The  fear  of  God, 

*  As  an  illustration  of  the  hardening  effect  of  leaving 
off  prayer,  where  the  habit  had  been  previously  main- 
tained, I  may  give  the  confession  of  one  who  had  known 
it  by  sad  and  awful  experience.  "  It  will  be  recollect- 
ed," says  the  writer  of  'The  Happy  Transformation,' 
"  that  when  I  left  my  paternal  roof,  I  possessed 
some  feelings  of  veneration  for  the  great  Author  of  my 
being,  and  had  been  trained  up  to  fear  his  holy  name. 
These  feelings  I  carried  with  me  to  London,  strength- 
ened by  the  advice  of  my  father,  and  the  pious  example 
of  my  brother.  I  did  not  possess  any  proper  knowledge 
of  the  relation  in  which  I  stood  to  God  as  a  sinner,  and 
my  need  of  redeeming  grace.  All  my  religion  consist- 
ed in  a  fear  of  drawing  down  God's  displeasure,  and  an 
idea  that  it  was  my  duty  to  pray  to  him  morning  and 
night.  This  I  attended  to  for  some  time.  At  first  1 
used  to  kneel  unnoticed  behind  the  bed  ;  but  by  degrees 
I  neglected  this  from  shame  and  idleneso,  and  used  to 
mutter  over  my  prayers  in  bed.  Sometimes  I  dropped 
to  sleep  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  at  othe^r  times  never 
attempted  to  say  them  at  all  ;  and  this  course  I  contin* 


YOUNG  MES  LED  ASTRAY.  61 

even  that  small  portion  of  it  he  seemed  to  pos- 
sess, was  leaving  his  heart.  He  now  lives  with- 
out prayer,  and  stands  exposed  to  the  ten  thousand 
snares  and  temptations  of  the  world,  without  a 
single  defence.  Yet  he  fills  up  his  place  in  the 
house  of  God ;  for  he  cannot  throw  off  a  certain 
kind  of  reverence  for  the  sabbath,  and  a  still  lin- 
gering attachment  to  the  sanctuary.  In  the  same 
house  in  which  he  lives  there  is  one,  or  there  are 
several,  who  have  no  taste  for  sacred  things,  but 
wh  o  are  worldly  and  sensual.  He  hears  their  scoffs 
at  piety,  which  at  first  shock  him,  and  he  rebukes 
them,  or  expostulates  with  them ;  for  he  is  not 

ued  some  years,  according  as  my  conscience  was  more 
or  less  alarmed.  But  this  I  can  testify,  that  as  soon  as 
I  neglected  prayer,  my  fear  of  God  began  to  decline, 
and  my  reverence  for  his  name  and  house  decreased, 
I  have  always  considered  this  as  the  first  step  to  ruin  ; 
and  happy  shall  I  be  if  any,  who  may  be  disposed  to  act 
the  same  part,  should  consider,  and  take  the  alarm,  before 
they  restrain  prayer  on  their  knees  before  God.  Wei! 
has  a  pious  writer  remarked  with  reference  to  prayer, 
'  If  neglected  once,  another  and  another  excuse  will 
arise  for  neglecting  it  again  and  again;  a  chain^with 
one  link  broken  no  longer  binds,  and  a  habit  of  duty 
once  broken,  may  cease  to  be  a  habit.'  Such  I  have 
found  it,  and  such  doubtless  have  many  others.  True, 
my  prayers  were  not  of  much  value  as  a  spiritual  offer- 
ing ;  but  they  constantly  kept  up  an  awe  of  God  upon 
my  mind,  and  were  a  restraint  upon  me  in  committing 
flagrant  sins." 

6 


62  TOXJNG  MEN  LED  ASTRAY. 

yet  reconciled  to  profanity:  he  goes  further,  by 
pointing  out  the  impropriety  of  their  conduct  in 
other  things,  and  warning  them  of  the  conse- 
quences. By  degrees,  however,  he  becomes  more 
tolerant  of  their  sins,  and  less  offended  by- their 
dissipation.  They  rally  him,  ridicule  him,  and 
Hatter  him  by  turns,  and  on  some  fine  sabbath 
evening  persuade  him  to  accompany  them  in  a 
ramble  into  the  country.  After  a  little  hesitation, 
he  consents,  enjoys  himself  and  is  merry,  though 
not  altogether  without  the  smiling  of  conscience. 
In  a  sabbath  or  two  the  Sunday  party  is  again 
formed,  and  the  authority  of  God  again  resisted 
and  despised.  Once  a  day  is  now  thought  quite 
enough  for  public  worship,  and  the  morning  being 
given  to  God,  the  evening  may  be  given  to  plea- 
sure, especially  by  one  who  is  all  the  week  shut 
up  in  a  close  town,  and  who  has  no  opportunity 
except  on  a  Sunday,  to  see  the  country,  or  breathe 
fresh  air.  The  same  argument,  once  admitted  to 
be  valid,  is  soon  applied  to  the  morning  service, 
and  the  whole  sabbath  is  at  length  given  to 
recreation. 

Conscience,  however,  has  not  suffered  him  to  go 
thus  &r  without  frequent  stings  and  warnings.  A 
letter  from  home  occasionally  disturbs  him.  His 
father  has  been  informed  of  his  altered  conduct, 
and,  in  grief  of  heart,  expostulates,  entreats,  and 
warns.  First  he  is  sorrowful,  then  he  is  angry, 
then  inwardly  uneasy;  but  the  jest  of  a  sinful  com- 
panion scatters  every  better  thought,  and  he  is  de- 


YOUNG  MEN  LED  ASTRAY.  63 

terra ined  to  go  on.  He  is  now  the  constant  asso- 
ciate of  evil  doers,  who  have  gained  an  ascendency 
over  him,  and  are  leading  him  further  and  further 
astray.  To  calm  the  apprehensions  of  his  parents, 
and  to  silence  the  remonstrances  from  home,  he 
writes  a  penitential  letter,  and  gives  promises  of 
amendment.  Lying  and  hypocrisy  are  now  added 
to  his  other  sins,  and  are  dreadful  auxiliaries  to 
benumb  the  conscience  and  harden  the  heart.  A 
celebrated  actor  comes  to  the  town,  or  is  to  appear 
at  one  of  the  theatres,  and  he  is  solicited  to  go  to 
the  performance;  he  is  now  prepared  for  this,  and 
readily  assents.  Every  thing  fascinates  him.  His 
senses,  imagination,  heart,  taste,  are  all  carried 
away  captive.  His  soul  is  in  a  state  of  mental  in- 
toxication. He  acquires  a  passion  for  th<?  stage, 
and  as  often  as  his  means  and  opportunity  will 
allow,  he  is  at  the  theatre.  Intelligence  again 
reaches  home,  and  again  his  shocked  and  heart- 
stricken  parents  write,  and  entreat  him  to  alter  his 
conduct,  or  return  to  them :  but  he  can  now  treat 
a  father's  advice  with  contempt,  and  a  mother's 
tears  with  cruel  indifference.  The  theatre,  as  we 
have  already  shown,  is  the  resort  of  those  unhappy 
women,  of  whom  the  wise  man  says,  "  their  house 
is  the  way  to  hell,  going  down  to  the  chambers  of 
death."  He  is  caught  in  the  snare,  and  ruined. 
He  is  horror  struck  when  reflection  comes,  and  in 
an  agony  of  expiring  virtue  exclaims,  "What  have 
I  done  ?"  Conscience  is  not  quite  dead,  nor  shame 
quite  extinguished.  To  still  the  remonstrances  of 


€4  YOUXG  MEN  LED  ASTRAY. 

the  troublesome  monitor  within,  he  revisits  the 
scene  where  so  many  are  assembled  like  himself, 
to  drown  their  sorrows,  or  to  blunt  remorse.  The 
death  of  a  friend  or  relative  occurs,  which  renders 
it  necessary  that  he  should  attend  a  funeral,  per- 
haps hear  a  funeral  sermon.  The  Book  of  God, 
and  his  faithful  servant,  now  proclaim  the  sinful- 
ness  of  sin  and  the  sinner's  everlasting  doom.  He 
trembles,  but  repents  not  Revelation  now  haunts 
him  like  a  spectre,  and  disturbs  him  in  his  course. 
If  he  persist  in  sinning,  he  must  get  rid  of  this 
troublesome  interference.  Is  the  Bible  true  ?  Some 
one  of  his  companions  is  a  sceptic,  and  now  labours 
for  his  conversion  to  infidelity.  Byron's  poetry 
prepares  the  way  for  Hume's  subtleties,  Paine's 
ribaldry,  or  Owen's  absurdities.  Christianity  is 
now  called  a  fable ;  man's  accountability  a  mere 
dogma  of  cunning  priests ;  and  hell  only  the  pic- 
ture of  a  gloomy  superstition,  to  hold  the  mind  of 
man  in  bondage.  He  throws  off  the  yoke  of  reli- 
gion; exults  in  his  liberty;  yields  his  members 
servants  to  uncleanness,  adds  iniquity  unto  iniquity, 
and  runs  to  every  excess  of  riot.  But  whence  come 
the  funds  to  support  his  lusts  ?  His  father  cannot 
supply  them,  nor  his  wages ;  but  secret  pilfering 
can,  and  does.  If  he  can  escape  detection,  what 
has  he  to  fear  ?  "  Man  is  the  creature  of  circum- 
stances," and  his  circumstances  compel  him  to  rob 
his  master :  and  as  to  a  hereafter,  it  is  all  a  dream. 
Gambling  is  now  added  to  his  other  crimes. 
Shame  is  lost,  nay  he  glories  in  his  shame  •  and 


YOUNG  MEN  LED  ASTRAY.  65 

commences  the  trade  of  ruining  others, — corrupt- 
ing the  principles  of  one  sex,  and  the  morals  of  the 
other.  With  a  character  composed  of  every  dark- 
est shade  of  human  depravity,  let  his  closing  scene 
be  narrated  in  the  next  chapter,  which,  by  a  mel- 
ancholy fact,  confirms  the  representation  here 
given.  Not  that  I  mean  to  assert  that  all  who  go 
astray  in  youth  reach  this  climax ;  but  many  do, 
and  all  are  in  danger  of  it. 

What,  then,  are  the  maxims  arising  out  of  this 
representation,  which  every  young  man  should 
always  bear  in  mind  ? 

1.  That  sin  is  the  most  deceitful  thing  in  the 
universe,  as  manifested  by  the  insidious  manner  in 
which  it  leads  on  the  transgressor  in  his  way ;  and 
the  excuses  with  which  at  every  stage  of  his  pro- 
gress it  furnishes  him. 

2.  Those  who  would  not  be  found  walking  in 
the  path  of  sin,  should  not  take  the  first  step  in  it. 
Avoid  first  sins  :  they  always,  or  nearly  so,  lead 
on  to  others.     It  is  far  easier  to  abstain  from  the 
first  sin  than  the  second.     No  temptation  of  Satan 
has  been    more  successful  than   the  suggestion, 
"  ONLY  THIS  ONCE."    That  once  may  be  your  ruin 
for  ever.      Acts  may  be  repeated,  and   come  to 
habits.     No  sin  comes  alone,  but  stands  in  close 
connexion  with  others  which   they  teach  us  to 
commit,  and  often  afford  us  an  opportunity  to 
commit. 

3.  Carefully  avoid  li'tle  sins,  for  they  usually 
lead  on  to  greater  ones.     No  sin  is  abstractly  little, 

6* 


66  YOUNG  MEN  LED  ASTRAY. 

but  comparatively,  some  sins  are  greater  than 
others.  It  is  by  inducing  you  to  commit  these,  that 
Satan  will  prepare  you  for,  and  lead  you  on  to 
practices  of  greater  enormity.  When  under  the 
influence  of  temptation,  though  it  be  to  a  seeming- 
ly trivial  fault,  always  ask  the  question,  "  What 
will  this  grow  to  ?" 

4.  Be  very  watchful  against  common  sins.     It 
is  wonderful  to  think  what  boldness  sinners  often 
derive  from  this  circumstance,  and  how  hard  it  is 
to  persuade  them  of  the  danger  of  what  is  common, 
and  generally   practised.     Even  good  men  are 
sometimes  carried  away  with  prevailing  and  epi- 
demic sins.     How  frequent  is  the  remark,  "If  this 
be  sin,  I  am  not  singular  in  the  commission  of  it ; 
there  are  many  other  guilty  as  well  as  I."     Com- 
mon sins  lead  to  uncommon  ones.     If  we  follow 
others  in  what  is  evil  in  little  things,  we  are  pre- 
paring ourselves  to  follow  evil  examples  in  greater 
matters. 

5.  Take  care  not  to  be  misled  by  names.    Look 
at  things  as  they  are,  and  do  not  consider  them 
merely  by  the  terms  employed  to  express  them. 
"  Wo  to  them,"  said  the  prophet,  "  that  call  evil 
good,  and  good  evil."    This  is  often  done;  vice 
is  called  virtue,  and  virtue  vice.     Thus  excess  and 
intemperance  are  often  called,  and  unhappily  deem- 
ed by  many,  a  social  disposition  and  good  fellow- 
ship.    Levity,  folly,  and  even  obscenity,  are  called 
youthful  spirit,  boyish  cheerfulness,  innocent  liber- 
ty, and  good  humour.     Pride,  malice,  and  revenge. 


YOUNG  MEN  LED  ASTRAY.  67 

are  calkd  honour,  spirit,  and  dignity  of  mind. 
Vain  pomp,  luxury,  and  extravagance,  are  styled 
taste,  elegance,  and  refinement.  Under  such  dis- 
guises does  sin  often  conceal  itself,  and  by  such 
means  does  it  entrap  the  unwary,  and  conciliate 
their  regard.  Do  not  then  be  cheated  out  of  virtue 
by  the  change  of  names ;  lift  up  the  disguise,  and 
realize  the  nature  of  things.  This  deceit  also  dis- 
covers itself  by  its  counterpart  in  disparaging  true 
piety  and  goodness  by  the  most  opprobrious  titles. 
Tenderness  of  conscience  is  called  ridiculous  pre- 
cision, narrowness  of  mind,  and  superstitious  fear ; 
zeal  against  sin  is  moroseness,  or  ill-nature;  se- 
riousness of  mind  is  repulsive  melancholy ;  supe- 
rior sanctity  is  disgusting  hypocrisy.  Now  as 
nothing  tends  more  to  discredit  goodness  than  to 
give  it  an  ill  name,  and  as  not  a  few  are  led  more 
by  names  than  things,  I  cannot  give  you  a  more 
important  piece  of  advice,  than  to  admonish  you 
to  be  upon  your  guard  against  this  deception,  of 
covering  sin  with  the  garb  of  virtue,  and  branding 
virtue  with  the  name  of  sin. 

6.  Study  well  the  peculiar  temptations  of  the 
new  situation  into  which  you  are  introduced,  and 
anticipate,  so  far  as  it  can  be  done,  by  what  snare 
you  are  likely  to  be  tempted  and  led  astray.  Look 
around,  and  survey  your  circumstances,  that  as- 
certaining as  far  as  possible  by  what  door  tempta- 
tion will  approach,  you  may  be  the  better  prepared 
to  meet  it. 

Remember,  it  is  of  great  consequence  to  your 


68  TOTTNG  MEN  LED  ASTRAY. 

future  conduct  and  character,  how  you  aot  imrne* 
diately  on  arriving  at  your  new  situation.  The 
first  steps  in  the  path  of  goodness  or  of  sin,  are,  I 
repeat  with  emphasis,  frequently  taken  very  soon 
after  a  young  man  leaves  home. 

I  now  entreat  your  solemn  attention  to  the  nar- 
rative in  the  next  chapter. 


EXAMPLES.  69 


CHAPTER  V. 

TTIE    DANGER    OF     YOUNG    MEN    AWAY    FROM    HOME 
PROVED  AND  ILLUSTRATED  BY  TWO  EXAMPLES. 

IF  I  select  but  two,  it  is  not  because  only  two 
could  be  found,  for,  alas  !  they  occur  by  thousands ; 
but  because  it  is  not  wished  to  swell  inconvenient- 
ly the  bulk  of  this  volume :  and  the  two  selected 
are  adequate,  as  being  the  types  of  a  large  class. 

A  young  man,  whose  history  is  related  in  a 
little  book  entitled,  "  The  Happy  Transformation; 
£>r,  the  History  of  a  London  Apprentice,"*  left 
home  to  learn  the  trade  of  a  woollen-draper  in  the 
metropolis.  He  carried  from  his  father's  house  an 
unblemished  moral  reputation,  and  a  general  re- 
spect for  religion.  His  situation  was  a  laborious 
one ;  "  but,"  he  observes,  "  often  when  toiling  hard 
through  the  day,  and  travelling  from  one  end  of  Lon- 
don to  the  other,  ready  to  sink  with  fatigue,  perhaps 
from  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  eleven  o'clock  at 
night,  I  have  been  cheerful  and  happy,  from  the 
consideration  that  I  was  in  the  path  of  honest  in- 
dustry, and  that  I  should  one  day  reap  a  reward. 
I  felt  ambitious  to  be  able  to  soothe  the  declining 
years  of  my  father,  and  do  something  for  his  com- 

*  I  shall  be  happy  if  this  notice  of  the  work  shall  in- 
duce many  young  men  to  purchase  and  read  it.  The 
Rrork  is  published  by  Wightman,  price  1$. 


70  EXAMPLES. 

fort  when  he  was  unable  to  provide  for  himself. 
These  feelings  warmed  my  heart  while  I  was 
honest,  virtuous,  and  happy."  Corrupted,  as  I 
have  shown  before,  by  a  fellow-apprentice,  he  was 
soon  initiated  into  the  practices  of  iniquity,  which 
everywhere  abound,  and  in  the  metropolis  super- 
abound.  Public  worship  was  neglected,  the  Sab- 
bath habitually  violated,  every  scene  of  dissipation 
resorted  to,  and  every  habit  of  vice  contracted. 
Yet  withal,  misery  mingled  with  his  sinful  gratifi- 
cations; the  cup  of  pleasure  was  embittered  with 
the  gall  and  wormwood  of  remorse ;  and  under  the 
stings  of  conscience,  and  the  hopelessness  of  im- 
provement, he  at  one  time  resolved  on  self-destruc- 
tion— a  resolution,  by  the  interposition  of  Provi- 
dence, happily  prevented.  At  length,  his  extrav- 
agance led  to  habits  of  dishonesty.  He  was  de- 
tected, arrested,  and  conveyed  to  prison,  and  thus 
relates,  in  a  letter,  the*  scene  to  which  his  courses 
had  conducted  him,  and  the  feelings  with  which 
he  occupied  it : — 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND, 

"  You  will  easily  conceive  whither  such  a  course 
of  vice  as  these  letters  have  portrayed  must  have 
led;  and  that,  having  once  broken  through  my 
integrity,  such  habits  would  soon  render  it  neces- 
sary to  'add  iniquity  unto  iniquity.'  Just  so  I 
found  it ;  and  I  commenced  a  system  of  dishonesty 
and  breach  of  confidence  toward  my  employers 
which  might  have  terminated  in  an  ignominious 


EXAMPLES.  71 

death.  At  first,  a  few  shillings,  at  convenient 
and  far-distant  opportunities,  sufficed,  or  rather,  was 
as  much  as  I  dared  to  take ;  but  at  length  I  pro- 
ceeded to  pounds.  I  could  not,  however,  be  happy 
under  such  circumstances,  and  I  plainly  saw  that 
ruin  would  ensue:  I  was  therefore  anxious  to 
leave  my  engagement,  and  enter  upon  some  course 
of  business  where  I  should  be  less  exposed  to 
temptation,  or  where  I  could  make  use  of  only  my 
own  property.  I  had  made  several  attempts  to 
effect  my  purpose,  and  should  probably  have  suc- 
ceeded ;  but,  in  the  mean  time,  suspicion  fell  upon 
me.  A  snare  was  laid  by  one  of  the  firm,  and  I 
fell  into  it.  Oh,  what  words  can  express  my  hor- 
ror, when,  on  one  Saturday  morning,  my  employer 
called  me  into  his  parlour,  and  charged  me  with 
robbery.  I  denied  the  charge :  he  persisted,  and 
begged  me  to  confess,  threatening  to  send  for 
an  officer  if  I  did  not.""  I  was  confounded,  and 
could  not  confess,  though  I  wished  to  do  so.  He 
produced  my  signature  for  money  which  I  had  not 
accounted  for:  I  still  equivocated.  My  brother, 
who  had  lately  engaged  in  the  same  house,  was 
called  in.  Oh,  who  can  describe  his  agony ! 
He  conjured  me  to  confess  my  guilt,  if  guilty;  but, 
while  I  hesitated,  or  rather  attempted  to  explain, 
the  police-officer  arrived.  My  drawers  and  boxes 
were  examined,  and  several  suspicious  circum- 
stances appeared.  I  was  given  up  to  the  officer, 
who  led  me  off  to  Union  Hall,  and  placed  me  in 
the  prisoner's  box,  with  several  of  the  lowest 


12  EXAMPLES. 

blackguards  London  could  produce.  Ala's !  what 
a  situation  was  I  in  !  Overwhelmed  with  shame, 
I  sank  down  on  the  box,  and  hid  myself  among 
these  wretches  by  sitting  on  the  floor.  At  length, 
my  name  was  called  out,  and  my  charge  read  over 
to  me  in  open  court.  The  magistrate,  however, 
advised  me  to  make  no  reply.  This,  I  believe, 
was  at  the  instigation  of  my  employer  and  brother, 
who  wished  to  avoid  pushing  matters  to*  an  extre- 
mity with  me.  I  was  then  taken  away  by  the 
officer,  fastened  by  handcuffs  to  a  dirty-looking 
fellow,  and  thrust  into  a  dark  hole.  The  business 
of  the  day,  at  length  closed  at  the  office,  a  cart 
drew  up  for  the  criminals,  and  myself,  with  about 
a  dozen  others,  were  thrust  into  it,  handcuffed, 
and  tied  together  by  a  long  cord.  In  this  way 
we  were  conducted  to  Horsemonger-lane  prison, 
Here  my  appearance  made  my  wretchedness  the 
greater,  for  the  dandyism  of  my  person  afforded 
the  prisoners  fair  ground  for  their  scurrilous  wit. 
On  arriving  at  the  prison,  I  was  ordered,  in  a  sav- 
age voice,  to  pull  off  my  boot  which  was  replaced 
by  a  heavy  iron.  In  vain  I  remonstrated-;  all  the 
reply  I  could  get  was,  "  People  don't  come  here* 
for  their  good  behaviour."  My  person  was  strictly 
searched,  and  my  watch,  money,  and  every  thing 
valuable  was  taken  from  me ;  so  that  I  was  left 
without  a  farthing  to  help  myself.  Thus,  in  the 
middle  of  winter,  the  day  before  Christmas-day, 
which  I  had  anticipated  spending  with  some  gay 
friends  in  the  country,  was  I  thrust  into  a  cold 


EXAMPLES,  73 

prison ;  a  stone  cell  was  my  sleeping-room,  a 
wooden  block  was  my  bedstead,  and  a  little,  poor, 
thin  covering  was  all  I  had  to  wrap  myself  up  in. 
By  day  I  was  called  to  mix  with  about  thirty 
abandoned  sinners,  in  a  small,  dirty  apartment,  in 
my  division  of  the  prison;  and,  by  night,  was 
locked,  bolted-,  and  barred  in  my  solitary  cell.  Our 
food  consisted  of  bread  and  water,  with,  now  and 
then  a  little  soup,  supplied  by  the  charity  of  some 
benevolent  people  in  the  neighbourhood,  My  legs 
\vere  galled  with  the  heavy  iron,  and  my  distracted 
mind  much  more  galled  by  a  sense  of  my  shame 
and  guilt, 

"  Oh  what  a  scene  does  a  common  prison  pre- 
sent !  And  how  much  fitted  is  such  a  place  to 
harden  the  inmates  in  crime,  and  to  turn  even  the 
well-disposed  into  consummate  villains.  Here 
every  thing  wicked  and  abominable  is  laughed  at. 
The  man  who  manifests  any  remorse  is  bantered 
and  ridiculed,  till  he  is  glad  to  shake  it  off,  and 
sear  his  conscience.  If  any  one  seemed  disposed 
to  plead  guilty  of  his  charge,  he  was  taunted  with, 
4  Oh  !  you  are  going  to  tell  God  Almighty's  truth, 
fire  you?'  Plans  of  villany  are  talked  over;  the 
different  means  of  disposing  of  stolen  property  are 
pointed  out ;  technical  language  is  taught  for  every 
purpose ;  and,  in  short,  an  introduction  is  afforded 
to  every  vice  the  devil  can  wish  his  votaries  to 
engage  in.  I  was  at  first  disgusted  and  dismayed, 
but  matters  of  convenience  induced  me  to  try  and 
forget  myself,  and  descend  to  the  base  level  of  the 
7 


74  EXAMPLES. 

wicked  throng.  I  joined  them  in  several  of  their 
low  revelries,  and  forced  myself  into  a  sort  of  com- 
placence of  their  conduct. 

"I  at  first  thought  I  should  be  left  to  suffer 
alone,  and  my  country  friends  know  nothing  of  my 
disgrace:  but  here  also  I  was  disappointed;  for  a 
lad  from  my  native  town  saw  and  knew  me,  and 
carried  the  news  of  my  imprisonment  down  among 
my  friends.  I  was  confounded  and  astonished  at 
what  I  had  done ;  but  my  severest  exercises  of 
mind  referred  to  the  anguish  that  I  knew  I  should 
bring  upon  the  mind  of  my  aged  father.  I  felt 
that  I  should  bring  down  his  "  gray  hairs  with 
sorrow  to  the  grave."  My  nights  were  to  me 
intolerable.  I  was  then  left  alone  in  my  gloom, 
to  review  the  past,  and  feel  the  upbraidings  of  my 
guilty  conscience.  I  would  gladly  have  escaped  ; 
but  I  had  now  no  wish  to  lay  violent  hands  on 
myself.  I  was  determined  not  to  add  to  my  load 
of  crime,  but  to  submit  to  whatever  might  come 
upon  me." 

I  now  present  to  you  a  still  more  awful  scene 
and  more  tragic  narrative  than  this,  which  is  re- 
lated by  the  Rev.  Hubbard  Winslow,  of  America: — 

14  The  inspired  writer  says, '  Some  men's  sins  are 
open  beforehand,  going  before  to  judgment ;  and 
some  men  they  follow  after,'  1  Tim.  v.  24.  That 
is,  sometimes  sin  begins  to  be  overtaken  with  ret- 
ributions in  the  present  world,  so  far  at  least  as  to 
illustrate  the  fact  that  we  are  under  a  righteous 
moral  government.  Such  instances  seem  to  ami- 


EXAMPLES.  75 

eipate  the  retributions  of  eternity.  Many  arc  so 
sceptical  in  regard  to  what  lies  beyond  the  grave, 
that  God  sometimes  brings  the  judgment,  as  it 
were,  to  this  side  of  it.  As  he  sometimes  grants  a 
portion  of  the  very  joys  of  heaven  to  the  soul  of  a 
dying  Christian,  that  he  may  thereby  encourage 
the  pious  in  the  way  of  obedience,  he  also  some- 
times sends  a  portion  cf  the  very  woes  of  perdition 
to  the  soul  of  the  dying  sinner,  that  he  may  there- 
by teach  the  wicked  to  turn  from  his  evil  ways, 
and  live. 

"As  an  illustration  of  this,  I  have  concluded, 
after  much  hesitation,  to  mention  the  particulars 
of  a  case  which  fell  under  my  own  observation.  I 
shall  state  the  facts  as  they  occurred,  without  any 
exaggeration  or  embellishment. 

"A  young  man  left  his  father's  house  in  the 
country,  at  the  age  of  fifteen.  He  had  a  pious 
mother,  and  had  been  the  subject  of  early  religious 
instructions  and  impressions.  After  he  began  to 
reside  in  the  city,  according  to  his  parent's  direc- 
tions, he  attended  for  a  while  upon  the  faithful 
preaching  of  the  gospel,  and  was  of  hopeful  habits. 
He,  however,  kept  himself  aloof  from  the  more 
personal  and  special  means  of  religion,  yet  still  be- 
lieving it  to  be  important,  and  designing  to  attend 
to  it  at  a  future  time.  He  formed  an  acquaintance 
with  associates  less  favourable  to  piety,  with  whom 
his  feelings  gradually  learned  to  sympathize.  He 
went  on  in  this  way  for  four  or  five  years  without 
much  obvious  change ;  though  he  was,  of  course, 


76  EXAMPLES. 

resisting  convictions,  hardening  his  heart,  grieving 
the  Spirit  of  God,  and  laying  the  foundation  of  his 
moral  ruin.  He  often  received  letters  from  his 
mother,  reminding  him  of  his  duty,  and  urging 
him  to  it;  over  some  of  which  he  was  constrained 
to  drop  a  tear,  and  make  good  resolutions. 

11  But  the  way  of  his  heart  was  backward  from 
God.  Every  month  hardened  him  the  more  in  im- 
piety. He  at  length  began  to  visit  rather  freely 
the  theatre,  and  other  dissipating  amusements  and 
pleasures.  His  place  in  the  house  of  God  was 
sometimes  vacated,  especially  in  the  afternoon, 
and  he  was  scarcely  ever  at  the  evening  religious 
lectures.  His  mother's  letters  he  read  with  less 
attention  than  formerly;  for  he  had  begun  to  sup- 
pose himself  a  young  man  of  some  consequence, 
quite  competent  to  think  and  judge  for  himself, 
without  her  assistance:  he  thought,  indeed,  she 
was  a  kind  and  good  mother,  but  that  she  did  not 
know  so  much  about  the  customs  of  the  city,  and 
what  was  most  becoming  a  young  man  in  his  sit- 
uation, as  himself. 

"  About  this  time,  he  fell  in  with  some  sceptical 
Things.  He  at  first  hesitated  as  to  reading  them; 
but  as  he  had  attended  infidel  meetings  once  or 
twice  without  experiencing  any  harm,  he  thought 
there  could  be  no  danger  in  just  seeing  what  its 
writers  had  to  say,  especially  as  it  was  his  princi- 
ple to  examine  all  sides.  He  first  read,  then  doubt- 
ed, then  began  to  be  more  wise  than  all  his  teach- 
ers; and  at  length  slid  quite  over  into  the  yawning 


•EXAMPLES.  77 

gulf!     His  seat  in  the  house  of  God,  at  first  only 
occasionally  deserted,  was  at  length  quite  forsaken. 

"  He  was  now  quite  prepared  for  more  desperate 
steps.  He  lost  his  situation  from  certain  irregu- 
larities and  vices;  and  all  know  how  difficult  it  is 
for  a  young  man  to  obtain  a  second  place,  when 
the  first  is  forfeited  by  improper  conduct.  He  at 
length  succeeded  in  finding  employment,  but  it  was 
not  such  as  he  had  lost.  It -was  a  much  humbler 
and  more  menial  condition  to  which  he  found  him- 
self reduced.  His  ambition  was  broken  down ;  he 
was  mortified  and  discouraged.  This  subjected 
him  still  more  to  the  power  of  the  baser  motives. 
To  these  he  continued  to  yield  more  and  more ; 
losing  of  course  what  remained  of  self-respect,  and 
falling  under  those  severe  lashes  of  self-reproach 
which,  if  they  do  not  bring  to  repentance,  drive  to 
more  desperate  lengths  in  sin. 

"  I  will  not  detail  the  sad  particulars  respecting 
his  subsequent  course  for  four  or  five  years.  After 
several  fruitless  attempts  to  retrieve  his  circum- 
stances, he  changed  his  place  of  residence,  hoping 
to  do  better.  But  his  character  and  habits  went 
with  him.  For  five  years  he  did  not  write  a  single 
letter  to  his  parents,  and  according  to  his  state- 
ment they  did  not  know  any  thing  of  him ;  although 
they  were  most  of  the  time  only  about  a  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  distant.  But  he  had  determined 
that  neither  they  nor  any  of  his  former  acquaint- 
ances should  know  where  he  was,  or  what  he  was 
doing. 


7S  EXAMPLES. 

"  He  attempted  to  act  upon  the  stage,  but  could 
not  succeed.  He  even  undertook  to  be  a  juggler, 
but  soon  found  it  quite  out  of  his  province.  He 
began  to  gamble ;  but  usually  lost  when  he  had 
any  thing  to  lose.  How  he  obtained  the  means  of 
subsistence  during  his  years  of  profligacy,  they  can 
tell  who  are  acquainted  with  that  manner  of  life 
better  than  I  can.  He  wandered  from  place  to 
place,  prodigal,  reckless,  forlorn,  rapidly  wasting 
his  health,  till  at  length  he  was  reduced  to  the 
condition  in  which  I  first  saw  him. 

"  One  day  an  individual  applied  to  me,  and  said, 
*  There  is  a  young  man  at  my  house,  whom  I  am 
desirous  you  should  visit.  We  took  him  in  some 
three  or  four  weeks  since,  out  of  charity  ;  for  he  is 
destitute,  homeless,  and  sick;  although  he  is  a 
young  man  of  respectable  manners,  and  appears  to 
have  seen  better  days.  But  we  cannot  get  much 
out  of  him.  He  is  not  inclined  to  talk.  The  phy- 
sician thinks  that  he  is  in  a  fixed  and  rapid  con- 
sumption. He  has  a  wasting  cough,  with  night 
sweats,  seems  to  be  very  much  dejected,  says  but 
little,  and  is  at  times  apparently  in  very  great  dis- 
tress of  mind.  I  asked  him  if  he  was  willing  to 
see  a  minister  or  some  other  Christian  friend  :  he 
at  first  refused;  but  has  since  consented.* 

"  I,  of  course,  took  an  early  opportunity  to  visit 
him,  and  found  his  condition  even  worse  than  had 
been  represented.  It  presented  a  wan,  ghastly 
countenance,  a  sunken  eye,  a  hollow  voice,  as  from, 
the  tomb,  an  expression  of  intolerable  anxiety  upou 


EXAMPLES,  79 

his  countenance,  every  thing  indicating  extreme 
wretchedness  and  an  opening  grave.  He  was  at 
first  disinclined  to  converse;  he  seemed  to  be  com- 
pletely reserved,  and  no  efforts  could  draw  him 
forth.  I  addressed  a  few  words  to  him,  such  as  I 
thought  best  calculated  to  lead  his  thoughts  to  the 
Saviour,  and  with  his  permission  offered  a  short 
prayer.  On  retiring,  I  asked  him  if  he  would  like 
to  have  me  call  again.  He  assented. 

"  Soon  after,  I  renewed  the  visit.  He  was  ly- 
ing in  bed,  and  had  just  recovered  from  a  severe 
paroxysm  of  coughing.  After  a  short  time,  he 
beckoned  me  to  him,  and  with  a  low  voice  said 
he  should  like  to  see  me  alone  for  a  few  moments. 
The  nurse  and  lady  of  the  house,  who  were  pres- 
ent, left  the  room.  When  we  were  alone,  he 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  me  in  silence.  There  seemed 
to  be  a  conflict  in  his  mind,  whether  to  speak  or 
refrain.  At  length  his  struggling  spirit  burst  its  en- 
closure, and  he  began  to  tell  something  of  his  history. 

"  He  was  now  in  his  twenty-sixth  year.  For 
nearly  five  years  he  had  been,  as  he  supposed,  a 
confirmed  infidel.  He  had  become  an  alien  from 
his  parents,  they  did  not  even  know  where  he  was, 
nor  was  he  willing  that  they  should.  He  felt  that 
he  had  ruined  himself.  He  saw  clearly  where  the 
work  of  ruin  commenced ;  it  was  in  his  resisting  his 
early  convictions  of  truth  and  duty.  His  father  was 
not  a  godly  man ;  but  his  mother  was  pious,  and  he 
iiad  no  doubt  she  had  wept  rivers  of  tears  over  him, 

•'After  a  gust  of  emotion,  which  for  a  moment 


80  EXAMPLES. 

suspended  his  utterance,  he  proceeded : — It  was  not 
infidelity  that  ruined  him  ;  the  procuring  cause  of 
his  ruin  lay  farther  back.  He  was  virtually  ruined 
hefore  he  became  an  avowed  infidel.  It  was  his 
resisting  the  admonitions  of  God  and  the  striving 
of  his  Spirit,  that  made  him  an  infidel ;  but  his  in- 
fidelity had  served  to  plunge  him  into  more  open 
and  desperate  iniquities.  Since  he  had  embraced 
infidelity,  he  had  committed  vices  at  which  his 
earlier  youth  would  have  shuddered :  fraud,  gam- 
bling, drunkenness,  seduction ;  he  had  led  others 
into  the  same  vices. 

"  *  But  these,'  continued  he,  *  arc  only  the  warts 
and  excrescences  of  my  ruined  character ;  the  ruin 
itself  lies  deep  in  the  soul,  and  the  misery  with 
which  it  is  overtaken  here  is  only  premonitory  of 
the  everlasting  misery  which  awaits  it  beyond  the 
grave.  For  several  years  I  have  tried  to  disbelieve 
the  Bible.  I  have  succeeded.  I  have  been  a  con- 
firmed infidel.  More  than  that — I  have  been  an 
atheist.  I  used  to  hear  it  said  that  no  man  could 
be  really  an  atheist ;  but  I  know  to  the  contrary. 
I  have  been  an  atheist.  I  have  perfectly  and  fa- 
tally succeeded  in  being  given  over  to  a  strong 
delusion,  to  believe  a  lie  that  I  might  be  damned, 
because  I  obeyed  not  the  truth,  but  had  pleasure 
in  unrighteousness.  But  I  am  no  longer  an  athe- 
ist, I  am  convinced  that  there  is  a  God.  I  feel,  I 
know,  that  I  am  an  accountable  being,  and  that  a 
righteous  judgment  awaits  me  in  eternity.' 

"  After  a  moment's  rest,  his  countenance  gather- 


EXAMPLES.  81 

ing  more  intensity  of  expression,  he  added,  with 
increased  energy,  *  ?ut  the  most  terrible  thing  to 
reflect  on  is,  that  I  have  not  only  ruined  myself, 
but  have  been  the  cause  of  leading  others  to  ruin. 
Oh,  I  am  sure  that  the  everlasting  execration  of 
ruined  souls  nmst  follow  me  into  eternity !  Oh 
that  I  had  never  been  born,  or  had  sunk  in  death 
upon  my  mother's  arms  !' 

"  I  here  endeavoured  to  cast  oil  upon  the  rising 
waves  of  emotion,  and  to  calm  his  tempestuous 
spirit,  by  reminding  him  of  the  great  mercy  and 
forgiveness  there  is  in  God.  *  No,'  replied  he,  *  not 
for  me  :  I  cannot  be  forgiven,  and  I  cannot  repent. 
My  day  of  grace  is  all  over.  But  I  feel  greatly 
relieved  since  I  have  told  you  my  story.  I  am 
glad  you  came,  sir.  Wretched  as  I  am,  this  is  the 
best  moment  I  have  seen  for  a  long  time.  I  have 
hitherto  kept  all  this  to  myself,  it  has  been  as  a 
fire  shut  up  in  my  breast.  I  have  not  known  one 
hour  of  peace  since  I  left  the  paths  of  virtue  ;  and 
for  two  or  three  years  I  have  been  perfectly 
wretched.  I  have  often  been  upon  the  point  of 
committing  suicide.' 

"  After  a  few  words  intended  to  direct  his  mind 
to  the  source  of  hope,  I  left  him,  promising  to  see 
him  again  the  next  morning,  if  he  should  survive 
till  then.  He  did  survive — the  morning  came  ;  but 
it  was  no  morning  to  him.  The  sweet  rays  of  the 
rising  sun  shot  no  kindling  gleam  of  hope  into  his 
dark  and  troubled  soul.  I  had  hoped,  I  had  almost 
expected,  to  find  it  otherwise. 


82  EXAMPLES. 

"  I  have  somewhat  doubted  in  regard  to  the  ex- 
pediency of  relating  his  expressions  the  next  morn- 
ing, but  as  I  have  undertaken  to  report  the  facts  as 
they  were,  I  do  not  know  that  I  should  do  right  to 
withhold  a  part  of  them ;  especially  as  he  not  only 
permitted  but  requested  me  to  admonish  all  others 
by  his  example,  if  peradventure  he  might  serve  as 
a  beacon  to  warn  them  off  from  the  vortex  into 
which  he  had  been  drawn.  He  had  no  longer  any 
wish  to  conceal  any  thing ;  he  seemed  rather  to 
wish  to  proclaim  his  wretchedness  to  the  world. 
He  was  dead  to  hope  and  alive  to  despair.  With 
recollections  of  his  past  life,  an  awakened  con- 
science, eternity  full  in  view  but  a  step  before 
him,  and  every  gleam  of  hope  excluded, — oh,  it 
was  indeed  a  painful  illustration  of  the  inspired 
truth,  that  *  some  men's  sins  are  open  beforehand, 
going  before  to  judgment.' 

"  The  following  conversation  took  place  on  the 
occasion  now  referred  to : — 

"  '  How  do  you  do,  my  friend,  this  morning  ?' 

"  l  As  miserable  as  sin  and  wrath  can  make 
me!' 

44  This  he  said  with  an  emphasis,  which  sur- 
prised and  startled  me. 

"  *  And  did  you  obtain  no  rest  last  night  ?' 

"  *  Not  a  moment's  rest ;  my  soul  has  been  in 
perfect  misery.' 

"  *  But  you  are  excited  ;  your  body  is  diseased, 
and  your  mind  is  weak  and  morbid.  You  ought 
to  endeavour  to  compose  yourself  to  rest,  to  be- 


EXAMPLES.  83 

come  calm,  and  to  look  to  that  source  of  forgive- 
ness and  mercy  which  is  still  open  to  you,  if  you 
repent  and  believe.1 

"  '  No,  no,  it  is  impossible  !  I  cannot  compose 
myself,  I  cannot  be  calm.  My  body  is  well  enough, 
but  my  soul  has  been  in  hell  all  night!  I  have  de- 
nied that  there  is  a  hell :  I  have  scoffed  at  it;  I 
have  induced  others  to  do  the  same,  and  now  God 
is  convincing  me  of  my  error.  Oh,  I  know  now 
that  there  is  a  hell;  I  feel  it  in  my  own  spirit.  lam 
gla^d  that  you  have  come  to  see  me,  that  I  may 
tell  you  how  miserable  I  am.  This  is  the  only  relief 
I  can  get.  You  are  the  first  person  to  whom  I 
have  ventured  to  make  known  my  misery.  I  havs 
for  a  long  time  kept  it  to  myself;  but  I  can  no 
longer  conceal  it.7 

•"  *  It  is  well  for  you  to  acknowledge  your  sins. 
But  you  should  confess  them  to  God,  as  well  as  to 
your  fellow-men.  He  has  said,  '  Acknowledge  thy 
transgressions;'  and  moreover, '  He  that  confesseth 
and  forsaketh  his  sins,  shall  find  mercy. ' 

"  *  No,  no,  I  cannot  approach  God — I  cannot 
meet  him — I  cannot !  Oh  that  the  same  grave 
which  will  soon  bury  my  body,  could  bury  my  soul 
with  it.  Oh  that  I  might  be  annihilated !  This 
is  what  I  have  long  hoped  for  and  expected;  but 
this  hope  has  failed  me.  I  never  before  realized  the 
meaning  of  that  Scripture,  4  When  a  wicked  man 
dieth  his  expectations  shall  perish.'  All  my  ex- 
pectations have  perished.  I  have  been  for  some 
lime  reviewing  my  past  life,  and  during  the  last 


84  EXAMPLES. 

night,  that  passage  kept  passing  like  a  burning  ar- 
row through  my  spirit,  '  Rejoice,  0  young  man  in 
thy  youth  ;  and  let  thy  heart  cheer  thee  in  the  days 
of  thy  youth,  and  walk  in  the  ways  of  thine  heart, 
and  in  the  sight  of  thine  eyes;  but  know  thou, 
that  for  all  these  things  God  will  bring  thee  into 
judgment.'  Yes,  I  have  walked  in  the  way  of 
my  heart,  and  in  the  sight  of  my  eyes ;  and  now 
God  is  bringing  me  into  judgment.  The  arrows 
of  the  Almighty  are  within  me,  the  poison  where- 
of drinketh  up  my  spirit.  You  can  pray  for  rne; 
but  it  is  of  no  use.  You  are  very  kind  ;  the  fami- 
ly here  are  very  kind ;  I  thank  you  all ;  but  you 
cannot  save  me.  My  soul  is  damned  ! — the  seal 
of  reprobation  is  already  upon  me  !' 

"  These  last  were  precisely  his  words ;  and  they 
were  uttered  with  a  pathos,  a  sort  of  calm,  fixed, 
significant  earnestness,  which  almost  overcame  us. 
I  can  never  forget  his  expression,  when  he  fixed 
his  dark,  restless,  glassy  eyes  upon  us,  and  uttered 
these  last  words.  Perceiving  it  in  vain  to  say  any 
thing  more  to  him  while  in  that  state,  we  with- 
drew, that  he  might,  if  possible,  be  composed  to 
rest.' 

"  The  next  day  I  called  again  to  see  him,  and 
found  him  dying.  His  power  of  utterance  had 
almost  failed.  I  took  hold  of  his  hand,  and  told 
him  it  would  afford  us  great  relief  to  know  that  he 
left  the  world  reconciled  to  God,  and  trusting  in 
the  Saviour's  grace.  His  only  reply  was,  and  they 
were  the  last  words  I  heard  him  utter,  *  If  the 


EXAMPLES.  85 

grave  would  bury  my  soul  with  my  body,  I  should 
consider  it  my  best  friend ;  that  would  be  immea- 
surably better  for  me  than  my  present  condition, 
or  anything  I  have  a  right  to  expect.'  After  again 
commending  him  in  a  short  prayer  to  the  mercy  of 
God,  I  was  obliged  to  leave  him.  In  about  an 
hour  afterward  he  died. 

"  The  next  day  I  attended  his  funeral.  It  was 
the  most  gloomy  occasion  to  which  I  was  ever 
summoned.  Not  a  relative  was  present.  Here 
was  a  young  man,  evidently  of  fine  natural  talents, 
who  might  have  been  a  comfort  to  his  parents,  an 
ornament  to  society,  and  a  blessing  to  mankind ; 
who  might  have  pursued  a  useful  and  happy  life, 
and  been  raised  to  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the 
firmament  for  ever  and  ever — cut  off  from  life  and 
happiness  and  hope,  when  he  had  only  reached 
his  twenty-sixth  year. 

"  And  what  had  done  this  dreadful  work  of  deso- 
lation ?  It  was  sin.  These  are  thy  doings,  these 
thy  triumphs,  0  thou  enemy  of  God  and  man. 
Destruction  and  misery  are  thine.  Thou  hast  con- 
verted a  paradise  into  thorns  and  thistles ;  all  that 
is  most  fair,  lovely,  and  promising,  it  is  thy  delight 
to  blast  and  destroy ;  that  very  earth  which  was 
pronounced  'good,'  and  which  might  have  been 
peopled  with  the  joys  and  praises  of  heaven,  thou 
hast  in  all  ages  filled  with  weeping,  lamentation, 
and  wo.  And  yet  will  men  call  thee  a  pleasing 
trifle,  invite  thee  to  their  bosoms,  and  love  thee 
instead  of  God ! 
8 


BD  EXAMPLES. 

"This  young  man  died,  and  found  his  grave 
among  strangers.  No  mother  was  present,  to 
watch  the  last  struggles  and  catch  the  last  words 
of  her  dying  son.  He  could  not  ask  her  forgive- 
ness, nor  know  that  she  forgave  him.  No  sister  was 
there  to  wipe  the  cold  sweat  from  his  pale  brow. 
His  father  had  been  dead  some  three  or  four 
years.  The  conduct  of  his  son  might  have  hast- 
ened his  end.  The  residence  of  his  mother  was 
ascertained,  and  the  facts  respecting  him  commu- 
nicated to  her.  She  had  for  some  time  given  him 
up  for  lost,  supposing  that  he  had  gone  off  to  sea, 
and  was  probably  dead.  Again  were  a  mother's 
tears  and  sorrows  called  forth  afresh  ;  but  she,  too, 
has  since  died,  and  gone,  we  trust,  to  that  better 
world,  which  sin  has  not  invaded,  where  '  the 
wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  where  the 
weary  are  at  rest.'  Some  family  connexions  are 
however  still  living,  on  whose  account  no  name 
and  no  further  particulars  will  be  given. 

"  Excepting  the  two  or  three  last  sentences,  I 
have  not  given  the  young  man's  conversation  ex- 
actly in  his  own  words,  but  as  nearly  so  as  I  can 
recollect  them ;  except  that  I  have  in  some  in- 
stances mitigated  or  withheld  expressions  which 
I  deem  unprofitable  to  repeat.  I  question  the 
expediency  of  introducing  into  the  minds  of  young 
people,  even  for  the  sake  of  administering  to  them 
a  salutary  warning,  the  more  profane  and  blas- 
phemous language  of  those  that  have  grown  ripe 
in  sin.  *  0  my  soul,  come  not  thou  into  their 


EXAMPLES.  87 

secret ;  unto  their  assembly,  mine  honour,  be  not 
thou  united.' 

"  In  reviewing  the  sad  history  of  this  youth,  let 
us  notice  more  particularly  the  leading  steps  in  his 
progress  to  ruin.  In  the  first  place,  he  should  have 
hearkened  to  the  voice  of  God  when  a  child.  Com- 
mitting himself  to  his  care  and  guidance,  and 
seeking  his  favour  before  all  other  things,  he 
should  have  said  to  him, c  My  Father,  thou  art 
the  guide  of  my  youth.'  The  lessons  of  his  mo- 
ther, and  of  his  school,  had  taught  him  to  do  this  ; 
and  a  voice  of  known  authority  had  said  to  him, 
'  Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days  of  thy 
youth,  while  the  evil  days  come  not,  nor  the  years 
draw  nigh,  when  thou  shalt  say,  I  have  no  plea- 
sure in  them.'  It  was  in  resistance  of  conscience 
and  of  known  duty,  that  he  refused  obedience  to 
this  command.  Had  he  obeyed  it,  he  would  have 
had  sure  and  unfailing  protection  through  life; 
his  feet  would  never  have  been  thus  left  to  slide. 

"  In  the  second  place,  after  he  began  to  reside 
in  the  city,  and  was  in  attendance  upon  a  faithful 
ministry,  it  was  a  favourable  opportunity  for  him, 
before  his  acquaintances  and  habits  were  formed 
in  his  new  situation,  to  yield  up  his  heart  to  God, 
and  to  join  himself  to  his  people.  He  ought  to 
have  done  it.  When  he  found  himself  separated 
from  the  guardians  of  his  youth,  and  in  circum- 
stances of  untried  temptation;  when  he  felt  the 
occasional  loneliness  and  despondency  which  every 
young  man  feels,  on  being  first  actually  exiled 


88  EJALIPLES. 

from  his  home,  and  cast  upon  his  own  resources — 
then  was  one  of  the  seasons  of  God's  special  visi- 
tations to  him;  then  it  was,  with  a  great  and 
threatening  accumulation  of  guilt,  that  he  turned 
from  the  counsel  of  his  mother,  of  his  pastor,  and 
of  other  Christian  friends,  saying  to  them,  '  Go  thy 
way  for  this  time;  when  I  have  a  convenient  sea- 
son, I  will  call  for  thee.'  You  may  observe  thai 
irreligious  youths  coming  from  the  country  into 
the  city,  usually  become  pious  soon,  if  ever  they 
do.  If  they  resist  religion  for  a  considerable  sea- 
son in  their  new  situation,  and  under  the  peculiar 
and  urgent  convictions  which  they  then  have,  they 
become  hardened  and  fall  under  the  power  of 
those  peculiarly  adverse  influences  which  are  sel- 
dom or  ever  surmounted. 

"  In  the  third  place,  his  becoming  the  prey  of 
infidelity  greatly  facilitated  his  progress  to  ruin. 
Had  he  before  been  faithful  to  his  obligations,  his 
reading  and  hearing  something  of  infidelity  would 
probably  not  have  injured  him  ;  though  it  is  cer- 
tainly not  worth  while  for  any  man  to  punish 
himself  with  death,  in  order  to  ascertain  the 
quality  of  poison.  But  this  young  man,  accord- 
ing to  his  own  confessions,  had  sinned,  as  all 
who  become  infidels  do,  against  clear  convictions 
of  truth  and  duty,  before  he  was  given  over  to 
'  strong  delusions  to  believe  a  lie.' 

"  In  the  fourth  place,  losing  his  situation  in 
business  was  another  fatal  step.  From  that  time, 
his  course  downward  was,  as  we  have  seen,  very 


EXAMPLES.  89 

rapid.  His  ambition  was  broken,  his  spirit  sub- 
dued, his  pride  mortified ;  he  left  off  writing  to  his 
parents,  gave  himself  up  to  low  vices  with  mor« 
fearless  restraint  than  before ;  and  at  last  became 
one  of  the  most  hopeless  and  dangerous  of  all 
characters." 

8* 


PO  DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR   KIND  TO  WHICH  YOUNG  MEN 
AWAY  FROM  HOME   ARE   EXPOSED. 

BESIDES  the  formidable  and  appalling  perils  which 
have  been  already  enumerated,  as  awaiting  the 
young  man  on  his  quitting  the  house  of  his  father, 
and  entering  into  the  business  of  life,  there  are 
others,  which,  if  they  do  not  expose  him  to  the 
same  moral  jeopardy,  are  of  sufficient  consequence 
to  his  well-being  to  deserve  attention.  Char- 
acter may  be  injured  by  many  things  which  can 
scarcely  be  called  immoralities ;  and  misery,  yea 
vice  also,  may  grow  out  of  indiscretions  and  im- 
prudences. 

1.  Absence  from  home  may  beget  forgetfulness 
of  home,  and  indifference  to  it':  and  such  a  state 
of  mind,  where  there  is  much  at  home  worthy  to 
be  remembered  and  loved,  is  not  only  unarniable 
in  itself,  but  injurious  to  its  possessor.  Home  is 
not  only  the  scene  of  enjoyment  to  the  youthful 
mind,  but  it  is  the  soil  in  which  the  seeds  of  the 
social  charities  and  virtues  are  first  sown  and 
grow ;  so  that  the  child  who,  with  much  reason 
for  loving  his  father's  house,  is  destitute  of  this 
affection  while  there,  or  loses  it  when  he  leaves 
the  spot  long  trodden  by  his  infant  and  boyish 
feet,  is  a  most  unpromising  character.  He  that, 
upon  crossing  the  threshold  of  the  house  that  has 


DANGFKS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND/  01 

sheltered  him  from  his  birth,  cuts  the  ties  which 
ought  to  bind  him  to  that  dear  spot,  and  casts  no 
longing  lingering  look  behind, — who  suffers  all  its 
lovely  images  to  sink  into  oblivion  amidst  new  and 
ever  shifting  scenes, — who  can  forget  father  and 
mother,  brothers  and  sisters,  in  his  intercourse 
with  strangers, — and  whose  heart  is  never  under 
the  influence  of  an  attraction  to  the  circle  of  all 
that  is  related  to  him  on  earth,  is  destitute,  at  any 
rate,  of  social  virtue,  and  is  in  some  peril  of  losing 
also  that  which  is  moral.  He  that  can  cease  to 
remember  the  father  that  never  looked  upon  him 
but  with  affection,  and  the  mother  that  bore 
him, — the  brothers  and  sisters  in  whose  society, 
and  in  the  fellowship  of  whose  childish  sports  he 
first  knew  what  it  was  to  be  joyous  and  happy, — 
has  a  soil  of  mind  too  stony  to  allow  the  fruits  of 
moral  excellence  to  grow  there.  Cherish,  then, 
young  man,  cherish  a  fond  affection  for  home ; 
it  may  be  a  humble  one,  but  it  is  yours.  You  may 
be  rising  higher  and  higher  at  every  step  above 
the  lowly  spot  on  which  your  cradle  was  rocked, 
and  may  be  outstripping  in  prosperity  those  with 
whom  you  inhabited  it,  but  still  let  it  be  sacred 
to  you.  Let  not  your  parents  have  to  say  to  each 
other  with  tears,  when  they  have  waited  years 
for  a  visit,  and  months  even  for  a  letter,  "  Our  son 
has  forgotten  us."  Let  them  not  have  to  exclaim, 
in  bitterness  of  spirit, 

'*  How  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is, 
To  have  a  thankless  child  !" 


02  DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND. 

Keep  up  a  constant  correspondence  with  home 
by  letters,  and  let  every  line  be  such  accents  as 
shall  be  music  to  a  father's  and  a  mother's  heart. 
As  often  as  your  engagements  will  allow,  gladden 
them  with  a  visit.  Convince  them  that  neither 
time,  distance,  nor  prosperity,  can  lead  you  to  for- 
get them.  How  will  it  delight  them  to  see  that 
neither  new  scenes,  nor  new  occupations,  nor  new 
relations,  can  ever  alienate  your  heart  from  them ! 
The  preservation  of  a  tender  love  for  home,  and  its 
occupants,  has  proved  in  some  cases  a  last  tie  to 
hold  its  subject  to  the  practice  of  virtue,  and  a  last 
hinderance  to  absolute  ruin.  When  all  other  kinds 
of  excellence  were  lost,  and  every  other  motive 
had  ceased  to  influence,  this  one  lingering  feeling 
was  left,  and  filial  affection  prevented  the  complete 
abandonment  of  the  character  to  the  desolation  of 
vice.  "  What  will  my  poor  father  and  my  dear 
mother  say  and  feel,  and  my  brothers  and  my  sis- 
ters too,  who  yet  love  me  ?  and  how  shall  I  ever 
be  able  to  face  them  again  ?"  By  this  one  question 
the  spirit  about  to  swing  off  into  the  turbid  stream 
of  vice  that  was  rolling  by,  held  on,  till  time  was 
given  for  other  and  more  powerful  influences  to 
come,  and  the  love  of  home  saved  its  possessor 
from  the  perdition  that  seemed  to  await  him- 
However  far  the  poor  prodigal  may  have  wander- 
ed, yet  this  one  and  last  remainder  of  excellence 
may  bring  him  back  at  last;  but  let  this  be  extin- 
guished, and  nothing  human  is  left  to  stand  be- 
tween him  and  destruction. 


DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND.  93 

2.  In  opposition  to  this  danger,  the  love  of  home 
has  been  so  strong,  so  fond>  so  effeminate  in  some, 
that  they  have  been  really  injured  by  it,  through 
all  their  future  life.  It  has  promoted,  and  even 
produced,  such  a  softness  and  feebleness  of  char- 
acter as  totally  unfitted  them  to  struggle  with  the 
difficulties  of  the  world,  and  rendered  them  good 
for  nothing,  but  to  be  nursed  in  the  lap  of  luxuri- 
ous ease.  Parents  have  sometimes  lent  a  helping 
hand  to  this  mischief,  and  have  cherished  in  their 
children  a  whimpering  fretfulness  after  home, 
and  such  a  feeling  of  dependance  on  its  comforts, 
as  has  rendered  them  through  their  whole  exist- 
ence pitiable  spectacles  of  querulous  effeminacy, 
and  helpless  imbecility.  After  what  I  have  stated 
in  the  foregoing  particular,  no  one  will  suspect  me 
of  encouraging  an  indifference  to  home  when  I  call 
upon  my  youthful  readers  to  be  willing  to  leave  it, 
for  the  sake  of  their  future  welfare.  Act  the  part 
of  a  good  child  in  loving  your  father's  home,  and 
its  happy  circle,  and  act  also  the  part  of  a  man,  in 
being  willing  to  quit  it,  for  the  sake  of  learning  to 
perform  your  part  well  in  the  affairs  of  life.  Do 
not  cherish  such  a  hankering  after  home  as  will 
make  every  situation  uncomfortable,  and  inflict 
wretchedness  upon  you  wherever  you  are.  Let 
not  your  parents  be  made  unhappy  by  letters  full 
of  complaint,  and  tales  of  lamentation  and  wo. 
Rove  not  from  place  to  place  in  quest  of  that  which 
you  will  never  find — a  situation  abroad  that  will 
command  all  the  indulgences  of  a  father's  abode, 


94  DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND. 

Acquire  a  manliness  of  character,  a  nobleness  and 
firmness  of  mind,  that  can  endure  hardships  and 
make  sacrifices.  It  is  desirable,  of  course,  that 
your  parents  should  procure  a  situation  for  you,  or 
that  you  should  procure  one  for  yourself,  where  as 
much  comfort  may  be  secured  as  is  usually  attain- 
able, for  we  have  no  need  to  court  annoyance,  dis- 
comfort, and  privation :  but  be  not  over-fastidious 
about  these  matters,  nor  let  your  happiness  depend 
upon  having  your  palate,  your  convenience,  and 
your  ease,  consulted  and  gratified  even  in  the  mi- 
nutest particulars.  Do  not  set  out  in  life  the  slave 
of  little  things.  No  situation  is  without  some  in- 
conveniences. Human  life  is  a  journey ;  all  men 
are  travellers;  and  travellers  do  not  expect  the 
comforts  of  their  own  house  upon  the  road.  Cul- 
tivate a  hardihood  of  mind,  that  shall  .make  you 
insensible  to  petty  annoyances.  Look  at  great 
things,  aim  at  great  things,  and  expect  great 
things;  then  little  ones  will  neither  engage,  nor 
amuse,  nor  distress  you. 

3.  Among  the  minor  perils  to  which  you  are 
exposed  on  leaving  home,  is  the  liability  of  acquir- 
ing an  unsettled,  roving,  and  romantic  disposition. 
During  the  years  that  you  spend  beneath  the  pa- 
rental roof,  things  go  on  in  a  settled  order;  you  see 
and  know  little  of  the  world,  your  horizon  is  very 
circumscribed,  and  your  prospect  limited.  There 
is  little  or  no  room  for  imagination,  and  generally 
little  disposition  to  speculate  or  to  wander.  Now 
and  then  a  boy  of  erratic  mind,  and  precocious 


DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND.  95 

vagrancy  is  found,  who  is  ever  shaping  new  and 
strange  courses  for  himself,  and   laying  schemes 
for  adventure  and  enterprize,  in  his  father's  house. 
These,  however,  are  comparatively  rare  cases. 
But  the  spirit,  of  roaming  is  not  unfrequently 
awakened  when  a  youth  leaves  home ;  then  "  the 
world  is  all  before  him,"  as  he  imagines,  "  where 
to  choose ;"  but,  without  making  Providence  his 
guide,  he  begins  to  think  of  looking  further  for 
himself  than  his  judicious  friends  have  done  for 
him.    A  useful  and  honourable  employment  is 
selected ;  a  good  situation  for  carrying  it  on,  and 
acquiring  a  knowledge  of  his  business,  is  obtained, 
perhaps  at  much  cost  and   trouble.     His  friends 
rejoice  in  the  idea  of  his  comfortable  and  advanta- 
geous disposal.    But  ere  long,  home  comes  a  letter 
of  complaint,  which  banishes  all  these  ideas  from 
his  father's  mind,  of  his  son's  happy  position,  and 
fills  him  with  perplexity.    Much  against  the  hopes 
and  wishes  that  had  been  formed,  a  change  takes 
place,  and  the  youth  removes  to  another  situation. 
Here  he  stays  not,  but  removes  somewhere  else. 
At  length  he  wishes  to  go  abroad,  and  try  his  for- 
tune at  sea.    This  is  done,  and  he  embarks.    One 
voyage  is  enough,  and  he  returns  home,  weary 
of  foreign  travel  and  of  the  waves,  and  a  dead 
weight  upon  his  father's  hands.     He  is  not  im- 
moral.   He  commits  no  vice.    He  does  not  grieve 
his  friends  by  profligacy.    He  is  not  indolent,  but 
his  versatile  unsettled,  romantic  disposition,  makes 
them  sick  at  heart,  and  convinces  them  that  he 


96  DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND. 

will  never  be  a  comfort  to  them,  or  do  anything 
good  for  himself.  And  he  never  does.  Life  is  worn 
out  in  trying  many  things,  and  succeeding  in  nothing. 
Guard,  young  man,  against  such  a  disposition  as 
this.  Let  not  your  imagination  gain  the  ascend- 
ency over  your  judgment.  Do  not  be  always 
thinking  about  some  other  occupation  and  place 
than  that  in  which  you  are  fixed.  Avoid  build- 
ing castles  in  the  air.  Be  not  the  victim  and 
sport  of  a  wild,  roving,  and  untutored  fancy.  Ac- 
quire a  steadiness  of  purpose,  a  fixedness  of  plan, 
a  settledness  of  habit.  Make  no  more  changes 
than  are  necessary  to  arrive  at  a  complete  knowl- 
edge of  your  business  :  and  nothing  but  necessity 
should  induce  you  to  alter  the  profession  or  trade 
which  you  have  once  selected  and  entered  upon. 
Remember  the  old  proverb,  "A  rolling  stone 
gathers  no  moss."  If  you  meet  with  young  men 
of  unfixed  habits,  hearken  not  to  their  persua- 
sions, and  be  not  led  away  by  their  example.  If 
you  are  told  that  you  have  not  found  a  respectable 
trade,  make  it  so  by  your  conduct.  Multitudes 
have  failed  in  life,  have  sunk  to  poverty,  brought 
ruin  upon  those  who  dealt  with  them,  and  misery 
upon  their  friends,  by  an  unsettled  and  romantic 
turn  of  mind.  To  this  danger  you  are  exposed 
when  you  go  forth  into  the  world,  where  all  the 
numerous  and  various  roads  through  life  open  to 
your  eye,  and  all  their  unknown  and  untried 
circumstances  present  themselves  to  the  imagi- 
nation. 


DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND.,  07 

4.  Il  may  not  be  unnecessary  to  caution  you 
against  a  spirit  of  insubordination  and  disrespect 
toward  your  employers.  Accustomed,  perhaps, 
to  much  freedom,  and  little  restraint  at  home,  the 
reins  of  authority  may  be  found  rather  irksome 
when  held  by  the  hand  of  a  master,  and  he  perhaps 
not  the  most  gentle  or  agreeable  one.  These  re- 
marks appertain  more  to  apprentices  than  to  shop- 
men, though  they  are  not  altogether  inapplicable 
to  the  latter.  It  not  unfrequently  happens,  that  a 
young  man  has  his  comfort  destroyed,  and  his 
character  injured,  by  constant  collision  with  his 
employer.  Sometimes  the  fault  is  all  on  one  side ; 
the  youth  has  been  so  petted  and  spoiled  at  home, 
has  had  his  own  way  so  entirely,  and  been  left  so 
much  to  be  his  own  master,  that  the  yoke  of  au- 
thority, however  light  and  easy,  has  been  felt  to 
be  galling  and  intolerable,  and,  like  an  untamed 
bullock,  he  has  resented  and  resisted  it,  to  the 
annoyance  of  his  employer  and  his  own  injury, 
Young  man,  if  this  has  been  your  case,  instantly 
change,  or  you  are  undone.  Such  a  disposition 
will  not  only  be  your  misery,  but  your  ruin.  No 
one  can  be  prepared  to  become  a  master,  but  by 
first  acting  as  a  servant ;  and  the  way  to  govern 
is  first  to  obey.  Give  up  your  home  habits  and 
caprices:  and  the  sooner  the  better.  Call  into 
exercise  your  judgment  and  good  sense.  Give 
over  the  contest  with  your  master:  he  must  be 
obeyed,  and  it  is  jas  much  for  your  interest  as  for 
his  that  he  should.  But  suppose  that  he  is  an 
9 


98  DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND. 

austere  man,  a  hard  master,  an  unreasonable  em- 
ployer ;  even  in  that  case  carry  your  patience  and 
submission  to  the  utmost  limit  of  endurance.  If 
there  be  absolute  tyranny  and  cruelty,  or  an  intol- 
erable severity,  make  it  known  to  your  parents, 
after  having  mildly  expostulated  against  it  with- 
out effect.  Do  not  by  impertinence,  by  obstinacy, 
or  by  rebellion  make  bad  worse.  The  galled  ani- 
mal which  is  urged  on  by  a  furious  driver,  and 
which  cannot  escape  from  the  reins  and  collar, 
avoids  much  pain  by  quiet  and  patient  submis- 
sion :  resistance  only  brings  more  blows  from  his 
unrelenting  master,  and  causes  deeper  wounds  by 
the  fretting  and  friction  of  the  harness.  Perhaps 
in  most  cases  of  disagreement  there  is  a  little 
fault  on  both  sides.  I  know  an  excellent  young 
man  who  was  apprenticed  to  a  master  in  a 
respectable  trade,  and  of  a  tolerably  good  dispo- 
sition, and  who  made  a  profession  of  religion ; 
but  he  was  a  very  bad  tradesman,  and  had  a  wife 
who  was  gay,  worldly,  and  exceedingly  imperious 
in  ordering  the  young  men  who  were  in  the 
house.  The  youth  I  speak  of,  saw  the  fault  of  his 
employer,  and  felt  the  haughty  demeanor  of  the 
wife.  Instead  of  submitting  with  a  good  grace 
to  many  things  that  were  certainly  very  annoy- 
ing, he  was  constantly  engaged  in  strifes  about 
little  things,  that  kept  him  in  perpetual  wretched- 
ness. Sometimes  his  aim  was  really  to  correct 
the  blunders  into  which  the  master  fell,  and  to 
avert  the  consequences;  but  it  was  oft  en  done  pertly 


DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND.  99 

and  disrespectfully,  and  therefore  met  with  pas- 
sion and  rebuke  in  return.  He  complained  to  his 
friends,  and  made  them  wretched  without  reliev- 
ing himself;  and  had  he  not  been  released  from 
his  situation,  he  might  possibly  have  absconded, 
and  been  ruined.  I  have  since  heard  him  say 
that,  much  as  his  employer  was  to  blame,  and 
much  cause  as  he  had  to  complain,  yet  if  he  had 
himself  possessed  a  little  more  patience  and  pru- 
dence, and  somewhat  less  of  irritability  and  re- 
sistance, he  should  have  saved  himself  incalcula' 
ble  wretchedness,  and  averted  much  ill-will  and 
opposition.  Let  this  be  a  warning  to  you.  In  a 
former  part  of  this  volume,  I  have  alluded  to  the 
discomfort  of  such  a  case,  as  one  of  the  sources 
of  moral  danger.  I  have  now  dwelt  upon  it  more 
at  length  to  show,  that  it  is  sometimes  brought 
on  by  a  spirit  of  insubordination,  and  that  it  may 
be  in  great  measure  avoided  by  an  obedient,  con- 
ciliatory, and  submissive  temper. 

5.  The  entanglements  of  love,  and  the  rash  form-  * 
ation  of  attachments  and  engagements  of  this  kind, 
are  another  snare  into  which  young  men  away 
from  home  are  too  apt  to  fall.  Besides  the  love 
of  society,  and  the  desire  of  companionship,  there 
is  a  susceptibility,  a  strange  and  restless  emotion, 
seated  deep  in  the  heart  of  youth,  which  pants  for 
a  closer  alliance  of  the  soul  with  some  dear  select- 
ed object,  than  is  felt  or  found  in  the  closest  gen- 
eral friendship.  The  love  of  the  sexes  toward 
each  other,  is  one  of  .the  instincts  planted  in  our 


100  DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND. 

nature  by  the  hand  of  Him  who  formed  it,  and 
was  intended  like  every  other  arrangement  of 
Providence,  for  benevolent  purposes;  and  when 
this  passion  is  guided  by  prudence  and  sanctified 
by  piety,  it  becomes  a  source  of  felicity,  which  if 
it  does  not  remove,  at  least  mitigates  the  woes 
of  our  fallen  state.  "  It  must  however  be  a  rea- 
sonable, and  not  a  reckless  passion.  A  check 
must  be  given  to  these  emotions  while  immature 
years  are  passed  in  the  acquisition  of  knowledge, 
or  in  preparation  for  some  useful  station  in  socie- 
ty. The  young  affections  should  be  restrained 
until  the  period  arrives,  when  it  will  be  honora- 
ble and  safe  to  unfetter  them.  For  want  of  such 
restraint  many  a  youth  has  dashed  his  earthly 
hopes,  and  dragged  out  a  miserable  existence." 
Attachments  formed  in  boyhood,  have  often  led  to 
a  dishonourable  dissolution,  or  a  wretched  union. 
The  heart  grows  faster  than  the  judgment,  and 
should  not  be  allowed  in  this  matter  to  be  our  first 
and  only  guide.  A  youth  not  out  of  his  apprentice- 
ship is  a  poor  judge  of  the  fitness  of  a  person  as 
young  as  himself  10  be  his  companion  for  life  ; 
and  his  mind  should  be  occupied  by  other  things. 
"  It  is  not  to  be  denied  that  when  circumstances 
justify  it,  a  reciprocal  affection  between  the  sexes, 
founded  on  virtuous  and  honourable  principles,  is 
one  of  the  purest  sources  of  earthly  happiness. 
It  seems  as  if  the  Creator,  in  pronouncing  upon 
?;he  sinning  pair  the  curses  which  their  disobedi- 
ence so  justly  merited,  left  them  in  pity  for  their 


DANGERS  Of  A'lSIINOR  KIND,  191 


calamities  this  soothing  mitigating  blessing," 
But  early  connexions,  especially  if  clandestine 
ones,  formed  and  cherished  without  the  consent 
or  knowledge  of  parents,  have  rarely  proved  hap- 
py ones.  In  some  cases  the  dissolution  of  them 
at  the  imperative  command  of  parental  authority, 
has  been  followed  with  an  injurious  influence  over 
the  young  man's  future  destiny,  inasmuch  as  it 
has  made  him  either  reckless  or  misanthropic.  I 
have  some  painful  instances  of  this  before  my 
mind's  eye  at  this  moment,  some  of  which  are  of 
melancholy,  almost  tragic  interest. 

6.  Where  a  youth  has  been  much  indulged  at 
home,  and  not  trained  to  habits  of  persevering  ap- 
plication and  patient  industry,  he  is  in  danger  of 
sinking  into  indolence,  and  then  into  vice.  This 
tendency  is  not  always  the  result  of  parental  neg- 
lect, but  is  occasionally  found  in  youths,  who  have 
had  the  best  precepts  to  guide  them,  and  the  most 
stimulating  examples  to  quicken  them.  To  whatr 
ever  cause  it  may  be  attributed,  indolence  is  an 
evil  of  immense  magnitude.  There  may  be  no 
actual  vice,  nothing  at  present  bordering  on  immo- 
rality, but  only  a  disgraceful  and  shameless  inac- 
tivity. Nothing  rouses  the  inert  and  creeping 
youth.  His  employer  frowns,  scolds,  threatens, 
or  coaxes,  stimulates,  and  promises  ;  but  it  is  all 
in  vain.  Nothing  moves  him.  It  is  a  difficulty 
to  rouse  him  from  his  slumber,  or  draw  him  from 
bis  bed;  and  when  he  is  up,  he  may  almost  as 
well  be  in  his  chamber,  for  of  the  little  he  does, 
9* 


102  DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND. 

und  it  is  as  little  as  he  can  make  it,  he  does  nothing 
willingly,  and  nothing  well.  It  is  more  trouble  to 
get  him  to  do  any  thing,  than  it  is  to  do  it  oneself. 
If  one  single  abstract  word  may  express  his  char- 
acter, it  is  "  laziness."  What  a  pitiable  and  almost 
hopeless  spectacle  !  A  young  man  gifted  by  Prov- 
idence, perhaps,  with  a  mind  susceptible  of  im- 
provement, and  talents  for  business,  which  if 
cultivated  would  lead  to  eminence,  dozing  away 
the  most  precious  period  of  existence,  wasting  his 
time,  burying  his  talent  and  sleeping  upon  its 
grave,  disappointing  the  hopes  of  his  parents,  tor- 
menting by  his  incorrigible  laziness  the  heart  of 
his  employer,  and  preparing  himself,  probably  for 
vice,  certainly  for  misery.  "  Indolence  throws 
open  the  avenues  .of  the  soul  to  temptations,  and 
the  great  fallen  spirit,  in  his  malignant  march 
through  the  earth,  siezes  upon  the  occasion,  and 
draws  the  unwary  youth  into  his  toils. 

.  '  For  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 
For  idle  hands  to  do.' 

"  By  indolence  the  moral  principle  is  weakened, 
and  the  impulse  of  passion  is  increased.  It  is  the 
gateway  through  which  a  troop  of  evil  spirits 
gain  admission  to  the 'citadel,  and  compel  con- 
science to  surrender  to  base  desire.  Activity  in 
honourable  pursuits  strengthens  moral  principle, 
makes  the  conscience  vigilant,  and  furnishes  a 
breastwork  of  defence  impregnable  to  the  assaults 
of  the  tempter.  Indigence  has  in  some  cases 


DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND.  103 

counteracted  the  causes  of  indolence;  and  if  there 
be  a  spark  of  youthful  fire  in  the  soul,  the  stimu- 
lant of  necessity  will  operate  as  the  spur  to  vigor- 
ous action, ,  Hence  it  is,  that  from  the  low  walks 
of  life  have  risen  some  of  the  greatest  statesmen, 
most  learned  divines,  and  gifted  geniuses  in  every 
department  of  human  action.  Their  poverty  has 
been- the  spring  of  their  exertions.  Though  denied 
in  youth  the  advantages  which  wealth  commands, 
they  have  found  more  than  an  equivalent  in  their 
own  unconquerable  aspirations.  What  seemed 
to  be  an  obstacle  became  an  impulse ;  and  the 
impediments  in  their  path  to  usefulness  and  repu- 
tation, which  would  have  frightened  back  less 
noble  spirits,  only  seemed,  like  the  interposing 
Alps  in  the  march  of  Hannibal,  to  make  their  vic- 
tory more  glorious  and  more  complete.  Oh  that 
I  could  reach  the  ear  of  every  youth  in  the  land, 
wake  up  in  his  soul  those  generous  desires,  and 
urge  him  to  those  active  exertions,  which  should 
be  at  once  his  safeguard  from  temptation  and  the 
pledge  of  his  success."* 

7.  On  leaving  home  and  entering  on  the  business 
of  life,  or  at  any  rate  preparing  to  enter  upon  it, 

*  "  Considerations  for  Young  Men,"  by  the  author 
of  "  Advice  to  a  Young  Christian."  This  small  vol- 
ume, penned  by  an  American  divine,  ia  beautifully  and 
eloquently  written,  is  of  great  worth,  and  cordially  rec- 
ommended to  the  perusal  of  young  men.  It  is  published 
Jby  the  Tract  Society,  price  U. 


104  DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR 


young  men  are  apt  to  form  too  high  an  estimate  of 
the  importance  of  wealth,  and  to  make  the  acquisi' 
tion  of  it  the  supreme,  if  not  exclusive  object  of 
existence.  Ours  is  emphatically  a  money-making 
country.  By  far  the  greater  part,  if  not  the  whole, 
of  those  who  read  these  pages,  will  be  found 
among  the  middling  classes;  young  men  who 
leave  their  father's  house,  not  to  seek  the  laurels 
of  fame  or  the  titles  of  rank,  but  the  possession  of 
wealth.  Their  feeling  is,  "I  am  going  out  to 
learn,  and  try,  to  get  a  fortune  :  to  try  my  chance 
in  the  world's  lottery,  with  the  hope  of  drawing  a 
prize."  To  this  they  are  directed,  perhaps,  and 
stimulated,  by  their  parents,  who  send  them  forth, 
virtually,  with  this  admonition  :  "  Go,  my  son,  and 
get  rich."  Perhaps  the  son  has  seen  no  other  ob- 
ject of  desire  or  pursuit  before  the  eyes  of  his 
parents,  has  heard  no  other  commended,  and  has 
been  placed  in  a  situation  where  the  attraction  of 
no  other  could  be  felt.  Money,  money,  money 
has  been  held  up  to  him  as  the  summum  bonum 
of  human  life,  and  he  goes  out  eager  to  obtain  its 
possession.  But  even  without  being  thus  sworn 
in  and  consecrated  in  childhood  on  the  altar  of 
Mammon  ;  yea,  when  they  have  seen  and  heard 
all  that  is  opposed  to  it  in  the  house  of  their 
fathers,  youth,  in  general,  can  with  difficulty  be 
persuaded  that  to  learn  to  get  money  is  not  the 
only  or  the  highest  end  of  their  leaving  home. 
Riches  are  the  bright  vision,  which,  seen  in  the 
distant  prospect,  call  forth  their  aspirations,  and 


DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND.  105 

make  them  willing  to  sacrifice  the  endearments 
of  their  father's  house.  They  have  no  ideas  of 
greatness,  of  happiness,  of  respectability,  apart 
,from  wealth,  which  is  the  standard  of  every  thing 
valuable  with  them.  The  hope  of  being  a  rich 
man  is  the  nerve  of  their  industry,  the  spur  to 
their  energies,  the  reconciling  thought  that  makes 
them  wipe  from  their  brow  with  joy  the  memo- 
rial of  an  accursed  earth.  And  should  we  cut 
this  nerve  of  effort,  and  paralyze  these  energies  ? 
Should  we  take  from  the  heart  this  desire  and  ex- 
pectation of  success?  Should  we  quench  the 
ardor  of  youth,  and  make  life  a  dreary  wilderness, 
pathless,  objectless,  hopeless  ?  No.  Money  has 
proper  attractions.  It  is  the  gift  of  God.  When 
sought  in  subordination  to  a  higher  end  of  life,  by 
honest  industry,  and  as  a  means  of  rational  grati- 
fication, and  of  benevolent  effort,  it  is  a  blessing 
So  its  owners  and  to  others.  But  when  it  is 
wealth  for  its  own  sake  that  is  set  up  as  the  ob- 
ject of  existence;  when  it  is  loved  for  itself;  when 
that  love  is  an  absorbing  passion;  when  it  takes 
such  hold  of  the  inner  man  as  to  thrust  out  and 
cast  down  every  moral  principle,  every  noble  sen- 
timent, every  honourable  emotion,  and  every 
subject  which  relates  to  our  immortal  destiny ; 
then  it  is  a  low  and  sordid  passion,  a  groveling 
ambition,  a  contraction  of  mind,  of  itself  unworthy 
a  rational,  much  more  an  immortal  being ;  and 
which,  in  its  influence,  will  benumb  the  con- 
science, harden  the  heart,  and  ruin  the  soul. 


106  DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KJNI>. 

In  a  case  where  you  cannot  have  experience  of 
your  own  to  guide  you,  be  willing,  young  men,  to 
profit  by  the  experience  of  others.  Is  there  a  sub- 
ject about  which  the  testimony  of  mankind  is 
more  concurrent,  or  on  which  they  have  delivered 
their  testimony  more  spontaneously  and  emphati- 
cally, than  the  insufficiency  of  wealth  to  satisfy 
the  soul  ?  Has  not  this  been  proclaimed  by  the 
contentment  of  millions  who  have  had  little,  and 
the  restlessness  and  dissatisfaction  of  millions  who 
have  had  much  ?  Does  not  Solomon,  as  the  fore- 
man of  that  countless  jury  which  has  sat  in  judg- 
ment upon  the  world's  claim,  deliver  the  verdict  in 
those  impressive  words,  "Vanity  of  vanities,  all  is 
vanity."  Not  that  I  mean  to  say  wealth  contri- 
butes nothing  to  our  felicity,  either  by  lessening 
the  evils,  or  multiplying  the  comforts  of  life :  it 
does  contribute  something,  and  for  as  much  as  it 
can  yield,  it  may  be  lawfully  sought  after.  My 
remarks  go  only  to  prove  that  it  is  not  the  chief 
good,  and  to  dissuade  the  young  from  considering 
and  treating  it  as  such  in  the  outset  of  life.  It  may 
be  useful  as  one  of  the  golden  vessels  with  which 
to  serve  yourselves,  your  neighbours,  or  your  Lord ; 
but  it  must  not  become  a  golden  idol,  to  be  set  ujv 
and  worshipped  instead  of  Jehovah.  I  do  not  wish 
you  to  become  careless  or  inactive  in  business,  or 
even  indifferent  to  the  increase  of  your  possessions; 
but  what  I  aim  at  is,  to  convince  you,  that  it  is 
not  the  supreme  end  of  life,  and  that  it  is  infinitely 
less  desirable  than  the  inheritance  which  is  laid 


DANGERS  OF  A  MINOR  KIND.  107 

up  in  heaven.  If  you  make  this  the  end  of  life, 
you  may  miss  it  after  all,  and  even  in  reference  to 
your  own  selected  object  live  in  vain ;  while  if  you 
succeed,  you  will  still  miss  the  end  for  which  God 
created  you,  and  lavish  existence  upon  an  idol, 
which  cannot  save  you  when  you  most  need  its 
help.  You  may  cry  to  it  in  your  affliction,  but  it 
will  have  no  ears  to  hear.  You  may  call  upon  it 
in  your  dying  hour,  but  it  will  have  no  power  to 
commiserate,  and  to  turn  the  ebbing  tide  of  life. 
You  may  invoke  it  at  the  day  of  judgment,  but  it 
shall  be  only  to  be  a  swift  witness  against  you. 
You  may  think  of  it  in  eternity,  but  it  will  be  only 
to  feel  it  to  be  "  the  gold  that  shall  canker,"  and 
the  "  rust  that  shall  eat  your  flesh." 

Such,  then,  are  some  of  the  minor  dangers,  if 
indeed  I  can  with  propriety  call  them  by  such  a 
designation,  when  they  entail  such  consequences 
as  those  I  have  stated :  but  what  I  mean  is,  that 
they  are  not  so  directly  and  flagrantly  immoral  in 
their  tendency  and  effects  as  those  previously  enu- 
merated. Look  at  them,  young  men.  Weigh 
them  with  deliberation.  And  may  God  grant  you 
his  grace,  in  answer  to  your  earnest  prayers,  for 
your  protection  and  preservation. 


108  THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY  FOR  YOUNG  MEN  AWAY  FROM 
HOME. 

SUCH  means  there  certainly  are,  if  you  will  avail 
yourselves  of  them.  Imminent  as  is  the  peril  to 
which  you  are  exposed,  defence  is  at  hand,  and  it 
will  be  your  own  fault  if  you  are  not  preserved. 
Thousands  have  been  kept  amidst  the  severest 
temptations.  In  the  beautiful,  touching,  and  in- 
structive history  of  Joseph,  as  recorded  in  the  book 
of  Genesis,  a  history  which  will  never  cease  to  be 
admired  as  long  as  taste  or  piety  shall  remain  in 
the  world,  we  have  a  striking  instance  of  moral 
preservation  amidst  great  danger,  well  worthy 
your  attention.  How  fierce  and  seductive  was  the 
assault  upon  his  morals ;  it  came  from  a  quarter, 
and  in  a  form,  the  most  likely  to  corrupt  a  youth- 
ful mind :  yet  how  promptly,  firmly,  and  success- 
fully was  it  'resisted.  True,  his  virtue  subjected 
him  for  a  while  to  much  suffering,  for,  defeated  in 
her  criminal  intentions,  his  seductress,  under  the 
combined  influence  of  disappointment,  shame,  and 
remorse,  wickedly  revenged  herself  upon  the  virtue 
she  could  not  subdue ;  blasted  his  reputation  by 
calumny  and  false  accusation,  and  caused  him  to 
be  cast  into  prison.  But  Providence,  ever  watch- 
ful over  the  reputation  and  interests  of  pious  men, 


THE  MEAN'S  OF  SAKETT.  109 

overruled  all  for  good,  and  made  the  prison  of  this 
illustrious  Israelite  the  way  to  his  elevation.  But 
for  Potiphar's  wife,  Joseph  had  never  been  prime 
minister  of  Egypt;  her  guilt  and  its  painful  effects 
were  rendered  subservient  to  his  advancement. 
Sooner  or  later  virtue  will  bring  its  own  reward. 
But  what  was  the  means  of  Joseph's  preservation 
from  the  snare  ?  RELIGION.  "How  can  I  do  this 
great  wickedness,  and  sin  against  God .?"  was  his 
noble  reply.  Here  was  the  shield  that  covered  his 
heart.  True,  he  had  a  deep  sense  of  the  duty  he 
owed  to  his  employer,  and  on  this  ground  expos- 
tulated with  the  tempter,  "  Behold,  my  master 
wotteth  not  what  is  with  me  in  the  house,  and  he 
hath  committed  all  that  he  hath  to  my  hand ; 
there  is  none  greater  in  this  house  than  I:  neither 
hath  he  kept  back  any  thing  from  me  but  thee, 
because  thou  art  his  wife."  This  was  faithful, 
just,  generous,  noble;  but  there  needed  something 
else,  something  still  stronger  to  resist  such  a  temp* 
tation :  morality  alone  would  not  have  done  it,  and 
he  called  in  the  aid  of  his  piety.  "  How  CAN  I  rx» 

THIS   GREAT   WICKEDNESS,    AND   SIN   AGAINST    GOD  ?*' 

Thus  armed  with  religion,  he  fought  with  the 
tempter,  and  came  off  more  than  conqueror.  Let 
every  young  man  mark  this,  and  see  the  power, 
the  excellence,  and  benefit  of  piety,  as  a  preserva- 
tive against  sin. 

Amidst  the  snares  to  which  you  will  be  expos- 
ed, you  will  need  something  stronger  and  more 
trustworthy  than  those  feeble  defences  on  which 
10 


110  THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY 

some  rely,  and  which  in  many  instances  are  de- 
molished by  the  first  assault  upon  mere  unaided 
virtue.  You  may  leave  your  father's  house  with 
fixed  resolutions  to  shun  what  is  evil,  and  practise 
what  is  good ;  you  may  suppose  that  you  have  no 
taste  for  the  vicious  pleasures  of  profligate  persons; 
you  may  cherish  a  tender  regard  for  the  feelings 
of  your  parents,  sufficient,  as  you  think,  to  preserve 
you  from  every  thing  that  would  grieve  their 
hearts ;  you  may  have  your  eye  on  future  respec- 
tability and  wealth,  and  be  inspired  with  an  ambi- 
tion that  makes  you  dread  whatever  would  inter- 
fere with  these  objects  of  desire;  you  may  be 
already  moral  and  upright,  and  thus  be  led  to  im- 
agine that  you  are  prepared  to  repel  every  attack 
upon  your  purity  and  integrity:  but  if  destitute  of 
real  religion,  you  may  soon  be  exposed  to  tempta- 
tions which  will  either  sweep  away  all  these  de- 
fences as  with  the  violence  of  a  flood,  or  insidiously 
undermine  them  with  the  slow  but  certain  process 
of  a  siege.  Religion,  true  religion,  young  man,  is 
the  only  defence  to  be  relied  upon  :  morality  may 
protect  you,  but  piety  will.  What  multitudes  of 
instances  could  the  history  of  the  church  of  God 
furnish  of  youths  passing  unconquered,  through 
the  most  corrupting  scenes,  by  the  aid  of  this 
Divine  shield,  taken  from  the  armoury  of  revela- 
tion ;  this  shield  of  faith.  I  could  mention  names 
known  and  loved  among  the  pious,  of  your  own 
and  other  countries,  who  in  youth  went  unbefriend- 
ed  and  unpatronized  from  the  country  to  the  me- 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFTEY.  Ill 

tropolis,  and  who,  by  the  fear  of  God,  were  not 
only  preserved  from  evil,  but  were  raised  to  wealth, 
to  influence,  and  usefulness,  by  the  aid  of  religion. 
There  are  two  or  three  questions  concerning  true 
religion  which  may  with  great  propriety  be  asked, 
and  which  have,  or  ought  to  have,  great  force  in 
recommending  it  to  all.  Whom  did  it  ever  im- 
poverish, except  by  martyrdom  ?  Whom  did  it 
ever  render  miserable  ?  Who  ever,  on  a  death- 
bed, repented  of  having  lived  under  its  influence  ? 
On  the  contrary,  how  many  millions  has  it  blessed 
with  wealth,  with  happiness  in  life,  and  comfort 
in  death ! 

But  what  is  religion  ?  Give  me  your  attention 
while  I  attempt  to  answer  this  question.  It  is  the 
most  momentous  inquiry  which  can  engage  the 
intellect  of  man.  Literature,  science,  politics, 
commerce,  and  the  arts,  are  all  important  in  their 
place  and  measure ;  and  men  give  proof  that  they 
duly,  or  rather  unduly  estimate  their  importance, 
by  the  devoted  manner  in  which  they  attend  to 
them.  To  multitudes  they  are  everything.  Yet 
man  is  an  immortal  creature,  and  there  is  an  eter- 
nity before  him,  and  what  direct  relation  have 
these  things  to  immortality  ?  or  what  influence 
do  they  exert  on  our  everlasting  destiny  in  another 
world  ?  Nay,  do  they  make  us  either  virtuous  or 
happy  in  this  ?  Is  there  any  necessary  connexion 
between  any  one,  or  all  of  these  things,  with  hu- 
man felicity  ?  They  call  out  and  employ  the  no- 
ble faculties  of  the  mind :  they  raise  man  from 


3  l£  THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 

savage  to  civilized  society:  they  rellne  the  taste, 
they  embellish  life:  they  decorate  the  stage  on 
which  the  great  drama  of  existence  is  carried  on, 
and  give  interest  to  the  performance :  but  do  they 
reach  the  seat  of  man's  chief  pleasures  or  pains — 
the  heart  ?  Do  they  cure  its  disorders,  correct  its 
tastes,  mitigate  its  sorrows,  or  soften  its  weighti- 
est cares?  Do  they  comfort  man  amidst  the 
wreck  of  his  fortunes,  the  disappointment  of  his 
hopes,  the  loss  of  his  friends,  the  malignity  of  his 
enemies,  the  pains  of  a  sick  chamber,  the  strug- 
gles of  a  dying  bed,  or  the  prospect  of  a  coming 
judgment  ?  No.  Religion  is  that,  and  that  only, 
which  can  do  this ;  and  this  it  can  do,  and  is  con- 
tinually doing.  Disbelieve,  then,  the  calumnies 
that  ignorant  men  have  circulated  concerning  it, 
who  represent  it  as  degrading  our  intellect,  and 
destroying  our  happiness.  On  the  contrary,  a  lit- 
tle reflection  will  convince  you  that  it  is  the  sub- 
limest  science,  the  noblest  learning,  the  profound- 
est  wisdom,  the  most  consummate  prudence,  and 
most  useful  art.  In  its  theory,  it  is  called  by 
way  of  eminence  TRUTH;  in  its  practice,  WISDOM; 
in  its  essence,  LOVE  ;  in  its  effect,  PEACE  ;  and  in 
its  destiny,  IMMORTALITY.  It  is  sustained  by 
abundant  and  unanswerable  evidence ;  it  has  en- 
gaged the  attention,  and  captivated  the  minds  of 
men  of  the  profoundest  intellect :  to  speak  only 
of  our  own  country,  I  might  mention  Bacon,  Mil- 
ion,  Newton,  Locke,  Addison,  Johnson,  and  a  host 
of  others :  and  it  is  now  preparing  to  subdue  all 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY.  1 13 

nations  to  the  obedience  of  faith.  Is  it  not  a 
subject,  then,  which  demands  and  deserves  at- 
tention ? 

The  question,  however,  still  returns,  What  is 
religion  ?  To  reply  first  in  negatives :  it  is  not 
merely  being  baptized  in  any  particular  church  ;  it 
is  not  merely  being  educated  in  the  profession  of 
any  particular  creed ;  it  is  not  merely  being  ac- 
customed to  observe  any  particular  forms ;  it  is 
not  merely  an  attendance  at  any  particular  place 
of  public  worship ;  or  to  prefer  any  particular  set 
of  doctrines,  however  orthodox  and  scriptural :  re- 
ligion is  all  this,  but  it  is  a  great  deal  more:  it 
includes  this,  but  it  goes  much  further. 

Perhaps  you  will  understand  more  clearly  and 
accurately  what  religion  is,  if  you  take  a  short 
view  of  the  condition  and  circumstances  of  man, 
by  whom  it  is  to  be  practised.  Every  one  who  is 
born  into  our  world,  in  consequence  of  his  descent 
from  Adam,  since  the  fall,  partakes  of  a  nature  to- 
tally corrupt ;  by  which  I  mean,  that  whatever  gen- 
eral amiableness  and  loveliness  of  disposition  there 
may  be,  and  much  there  sometimes  is,  yet  with- 
out Divine  grace,  there  is  no  right  disposition,  but 
a  wrong  one,  toward  God,  and  holiness.  The 
Scriptures  declare  that  "  the  carnal  mind,"  that  is, 
the  mind  of  every  man  in  his  unrenewed  state, 
"  is  enmity  against  God  ;  for  it  is  not  subject  to 
the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed  can  be,"  Rom. 
viii.  7,  This  is  a  description,  not  of  any  one  man, 
^it  of  human  nature  in  its  most  generic  sense. 
10* 


114  THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 

All  men,  every  man,  till  renewed  by  Divine  grace, 
is  in  enmity  against  God.  He  is  not  merely  indif- 
ferent to  God,  and  alien  from  him,  but  inimical 
to  him  ;  he  does  not  merely  not  love  him,  but  he 
dislikes  him.  He  dislikes  his  moral  attributes  of 
righteousness  and  holiness,  and  resists  his  author- 
ity as  expressed  in  the  law.  So  that  in  the  heart 
of  man  there  is  not  one  good  or  holy  feeling ;  but 
all  its  thoughts  and  emotions  toward  God  and  ho- 
liness, are  evil,  only  evil,  and  that  continually. 
There  may,  as  I  have  said,  be  blended  with  this, 
many  fine,  and  generous,  and  noble  sentiments  of 
patriotism,  social  kindness,  honour,  generosity,  and 
philanthropy,  but  these  affect  not  the  disposition 
toward  God,  that  still  remains  unmixed,  unsubdu- 
ed dislike.  Many  think  this  not  true,  because 
they  take  pleasure  in  thinking  of  God's  great 
kindness  and  indulgence ;  but  mercy  without  ho- 
liness is  not  the  character  of  God  as  delineated  in 
the  Scriptures,  and  many  who  speak  with  pleasure 
of  an  indulgent  God,  are  displeased  with  a  holy 
and  a  just  one.  Nor  is  it  any  abatement  of  the 
truth  of  my  representation  of  human  nature, 
that  some  who  are  not  evangelically  pious,  take 
pleasure  in  tracing  the  wisdom  and  power  of  God 
in  the  works  of  creation ;  because  it  is  the  God  of 
the  Bible  that  is  proposed  as  the  object  of  our 
love,  fear,  and  delight;  and  not  merely  the  God 
of  nature.  It  is  God,  as  righteous,  holy,  true, 
and  merciful,  that  is  revealed  to  us,  and  whom 
we  are  to  love ;  and  not  merely  as  wise,  power- 


TILE  MEANS  0F  SAFETY".  115 

fal,  and  beneficent.  Human  nature  in  its  un- 
changed state,  is  opposed  to  holiness :  it  dislikes 
it  even  in  the  imperfect  form  in  which  it  is  seen 
in  the  saints,  a  plain  proof  that  it  is  opposed  to  it 
in  its  source  and  model,  which  is  God.  Perhaps 
you  think  this  arises  from  ignorance  in  man,  and 
that  he  would  love  God  more  if  he  knew  him 
better.  Quite  the  contrary.  The  reason  why 
men  think  they  dislike  him  so  little,  is  because 
they  know  him  so  little.  If  they  knew  him  more, 
they  would  be  still  more  opposed  to  him.  If  we 
dislike  a  quality,  the  more  that  quality  prevails, 
or  Is  known,  the  stronger  must  be  cur  dislike  to 
it.  So  it  is  with  the  sinner  toward  God;  as  he  is 
opposed  to  his  holiness,  the  more  he  knows  it,  the 
more  he  is  opposed  to  it.  Consequently  it  would 
be  impossible  for  an  unconverted  man  to  be  happy 
in  heaven.  There  God  reveals  himself  clearly, 
and  gloriously,  and  for  ever,  as  the  holy,  holy, 
holy,  Lord  God  Almighty ;  and  must  necessarily 
be  an  object  of  dread,  terror,  and  dislike  to  an  un- 
holy mind,  in  proportion  to  the  clearness  of  the 
manifestation.  Such  is  the  heart  of  man  in  his 
unconverted  state. 

Now  look  at  his  conduct.  It  is  his  duty  to  love 
God  with  all  his  heart,  all  his  soul,  and  all  his 
rnind,  and  his  neighbour  as  himself,  Matt.  xxii. 
37 — 39 :  riot  only  to  love  him  in  some  measure, 
but  supremely,  practically,  and  constantly.  To 
be  without  this  love  is  a  state  of  sin :  such  a  life 
is  a  career  of  rebellion  against  the  Divine  author- 


116  THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY". 

ity,  and  contempt  of  the  Divine  excellence.  This 
is  the  one  great  sin  which  comprehends  most 
other  sins.  Dwell  upon  the  other  sins  which 
stand  connected  with  it ;  first,  toward  God  him- 
self, there  is  no  gratitude  for  his  mercies,  no  rev- 
erence for  his  authority,  no  habitual  veneration  for 
his  character,  no  fear  of  his  displeasure,  no  trust 
in  his  promises,  no  submission  to  his  will,  no  de- 
votedness  to  his  service,  no  living  to  his  glory,  no 
pleasure  in  his  ordinances,  no  prayer  in  the  spirit 
of  it,  no  communion  with  him,  no  walking  with 
him,  no  delight  in  him.  Instead  of  this,  in  many 
cases,  profaning  his  name,  dishonouring  his  insti- 
tutes, despising  his  ordinances,  and  especially  the 
great  sin,  the  greatest  of  all  sins  in  his  sight,  neg- 
lecting his  salvation  in  Christ  Jesus.  To  these 
sins  add  others  committed  against  man,  disobedi- 
ence to  parents,  rebellion  against  the  authority  of 
masters,  lying,  malice,  revenge,  slander,  envy,  im- 
pure thoughts  and  feelings  and  acts,  injustice,  op- 
pression, cruelty,  swearing,  cheating — but  where 
shall  I  stop  ?  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  exposition 
given  by  our  Lord  in  his  sermon  on  the  Mount,  of 
the  strictness  and  spirituality  of  the  law,  by  which 
an  unchaste  feeling  is  called  adultery  of  the  heart, 
and  sinful  anger  murder,  is  such  as  to  prove  that 
each  one  of  us  is  guilty  in  the  sight  of  God  of  sins 
equally  innumerable  and  inexcusable. 

This  representation,  so  affecting  and  so  hum- 
bling, belongs  to  you,  my  reader,  and  is  a  descrip- 
tion of  your  state  and  condition.  And  can  you 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY.  117 

read  it  unmoved  and  unalarmcd  ?  Is  there  no- 
ihing  to  excite  apprehension  and  concern  ?  What ! 
bear  in  your  breast  a  heart  disloyal  to  God  !  disaf- 
fected to  God  !  at  enmity  to  God !  Will  you,  dare 
you,  can  you  go  into  life,  pass  through  the  world, 
and  enter  eternity,  an  enemy  of  God  ?  Yet  is  it 
not  so,  that  you  love  not  God  ?  does  not  your  con- 
science assure  you  it  is  so  ?  Can  you  help  saying, 
>4  Oh  !  what  a  heart  have  I,  that  can  love  anything 
else,  that  can  love  trifles,  that  can  love  impurities, 
that  can  love  sin ;  and  cannot  love  God,  the  most 
desirable  good  !  What  a  monster  in  the  creation 
of  God  is  this  soul  of  mine  !  0  my  soul,  thou  hast 
in  thee  other  valuable  things:  thou  hast  under- 
standing, judgment,  perhaps  learning,  considerable 
acquired  endowments  ;  but  thou  hast  not  the  love 
of  God  in  thee :  I  can  do  many  other  commendable 
or  useful  things,  I  can  discourse  plausibly,  argue 
subtilly,  manage  affairs  dexterously  ;  but  I  cannot 
love  God.  0  my  soul,  how  great  an  essential  dost 
thou  want  to  all  religion,  to  all  duty,  to  all  felicity  ! 
The  one  thing  necessary  thou  wantest,  thou  hast 
everything  but  that  which  thou  needest  more  than 
anything,  more  than  all  things ;  and  what  is  to 
become  of  thee  ?  Where  art  thou  to  have  thine 
eternal  abode  ?  To  what  realms  of  horror,  dark- 
ness, and  wo,  art  thou  going  ?  What  society  can 
be  fit  for  thee  ?  No  love  of  God  !  what  but  that 
of  infernal  spirits  who  are  at  the  utmost  distance 
from  him,  and  on  whom  no  beam  of  holy  light 
shall  shine  to  all  eternity.  Thou,  0  my  soul,  art 


118  THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY. 

self-abandoned  to  the  blackness  of  darkness  for 
ever.  Thy  doom  is  in  thy  breast,  in  thy  own 
bosom  ;  thy  no  love  to  God  is  thy  own  doom :  this 
creates  thee  a  present  hell,  and  shows  whither 
thou  belongest !  "* 

You  are  now  prepared  to  understand  what  true 
religion  is,  and  to  perceive  that  it  includes  the 
following  things : — 

Repentance  toward  God.  This  is  frequently 
enjoined  in  the  New  Testament.  "  Except  ye 
repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish,"  Luke  xiii.  3. 
"Repent — and  be  converted,  that  your  sins  may 
be  blotted  out,"  Acts  iii.  19.  "Godly  sorrow 
worketh  repentance  to  salvation,  not  to  be  repented 
of,"  2  Cor.  vii.  10.  From  this  last  passage  it 
clearly  appears  what  repentance  means,  and  that 
sorrow  is  but  a  part  of  it,  yea,  only  the  operative 
cause  of  it.  The  word  signifies,  a  change  of  mind 
with  regard  to  sin  :  it  is  such  a  view  of  the  evil 
of  sin  in  general,  and  of  the  number  and  aggrava- 
tion of  oar  own  sins  in  particular,  as  leads  us  to 
confess  them  to  God,  without  reserve  or  excuse, 
to  hate,  and  to  forsake  them. 

But  repentance  is  not  enough  :  this  is  but  a  part 
of  religion,  and  is  not  all  that  is  necessary  to  sal- 
vation ;  for  without  FAITH,  have  whatever  we  may, 
it  is  impossible  to  please  God.  God  has  not  left 
man  to  perish  in  his  sins.  Mercy  has  visited  our 
world,  and  brought  salvation  to  man.  "  God  so 

*  Howe's  Works,  vol.  ii.  499. 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY.  119 

loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten 
Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not 
perish,  but  have  everlasting  life."  AVhen  the 
jailer,  expecting  to  perish,  exclaimed,  "  What 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?"  the  apostle  replied, 
'*  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou  shalt 
be  saved."  We  are  "justified  by  faith;"  we 
4  purify  our  hearts  by  faith,"  "  we  walk  by  faith." 
Faith  in  general,  means  such  a  belief  of  the  whole 
of  God's  holy  word,  as  leads  us  to  observe  and 
obey  it.  Faith  in  Christ,  signifies  such  a  belief  in 
the  testimony  borne  to  him  in  the  Scripture,  as  the 
Son  of  God,  and  Saviour  of  the  world ;  as  our  Me- 
diator between  God  and  man ;  as  our  Prophet, 
Priest,  and  King;  as  our  atoning  sacrifice,  and 
justifying  righteousness,  as  leads  us  to  quit  all 
dependance  upon  our  own  works  for  pardon,  ac- 
ceptance with  God,  and  salvation,  and  to  rely 
exclusively,  and  with  expectation  of  eternal  life, 
upon  his  propitiation  and  intercession.  This  is 
one  great  part  of  religion,  and  an  essential  to  sal- 
vation. Faith  is  the  saving  grace ;  it  is  not  that 
for  which  we  are  saved,  as  the  meritorious  cause , 
but  that  by  which  we  are  saved,  as  the  instru- 
mental means.  The  first  effect  of  true  faith  is 
peace,  the  second  love,  the  third  holiness. 

With  faith  is  connected  an  entire  change  of 
heart,  conduct,  and  character.  This  is  what  our 
Lord  calls,  being  "  born  again,"  being  "  born  of 
water  and  the  Spirit,"  John  iii, ;  and  the  inspired 
evangelist  calls  it,  being  "  born,  not  of  blood,  nor 


120  THE  MEANS  or  SAFETY. 

of  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but 
of  God,"  John  i.  13.  It  is  what  the  apostle  calls4 
"  putting  off  the  old  man  which  is  corrupt  with 
his  deeds,  and  putting  on  the  new  man,  which 
is  renewed  in  knowledge  after  the  image  of  Him 
that  created  him."  It  is  what  is  meant  when  ho 
also  says,  "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,  he  is  a  new 
creature  :  old  things  are  passed  away ;  behold,  all 
things  are  become  new,"  2  Cor.  v.  7.  It  is  that 
entire  change  of  our  moral  nature,  which  is  ef- 
fected by  the  Spirit  of  God,  through  the  word, 
received  by  faith ;  when  the  corrupt  and  fallen 
nature  which  we  inherit  from  Adam,  is  taken 
away  ;  and  the  holy  and  spiritual  nature,  which 
we  receive  from  Christ  is  imparted.  This  is  the 
new  birth,  such  a  change  of  our  hearts,  as  gives  a 
new  direction  to  our  thoughts,  feelings,  tastes,  and 
pursuits ;  and  this  direction  is  toward  God,  holi- 
ness, and  eternity;  whereas  formerly  it  was  to- 
ward sin  and  the  present  world.  Now,  the  soul 
loves  God  with  a  supreme  affection,  and  from  this 
love  springs  a  sincere  desire  to  please  him,  and  an 
endeavour  to  serve  him  with  the  obedience  of 
affection,  even  as  a  son  obeys  the  father  whom  he 
loves.  Now  he  fears  sin,  hates  it,  and  strives  to 
avoid  it,  as  that  which  God  hates,  and  from  which 
Christ  died  to  redeem  him.  Now  he  has  a  tender 
conscience,  and  a  jealousy  over  himself,  lest  he 
should  offend  God,  and  pollute  his  own  soul.  He 
watches  and  prays,  lest  he  enter  into  temptation, 
and  sanctificaiion  is  his  delight.  Now  he  keepi 


THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY.  121 

holy  the  sabbath,  reads  the  word  of  God,  rejoices 
in  the  preaching  of  the  cross,  loves  secret  prayer, 
receives  the  supper  of  the  Lord,  joins  the  communion 
of  saints,  because  these  things  are  means  of  grace, 
and  ordinances  of  God.  Constrained  by  the  love 
of  Christ,  he  now  seeks  to  be  useful,  and  especially 
by  diffusing  that  religion  which  he  has  found  for 
himself.  He  gives  up  all  his  former  sinful  amuse- 
ments, the  theatre,  the  card  party,  the  ball,  the 
fashionable  and  dissipating  visit,  for  they  do  not 
now  suit  his  taste  ;  his  delight  is  in  God  and  his 
service,  to  which  these  things  are  all  contrary. 
He  is  independent  of  them,  and  happy  without 
them. 

Such  is  religion— a  personal,  experimental,  and 
practical  thing.  It  is  a  thing  of  the  heart,  and  not 
merely  outward  forms ;  a  living  principle  in  the 
soul,  influencing  the  mind,  employing  the  affec- 
tions, guiding  the  will,  and  directing  as  well  as 
enlightening  the  conscience.  It  is  a  supreme  not 
a  subordinate  matter;  demanding  and  obtaining 
the  throne  of  the  soul,  giving  law  to  the  whole 
character,  and  requiring  the  whole  man  and  all 
his  conduct  to  be  in  subordination.  It  is  an  ha- 
bitual, not  an  occasional  thing;  it  takes  up  its 
abode  in  the  heart,  and  not  only  sometimes  and  at 
particular  seasons  visiting  it.  It  is  a  universal, 
and  not  a  partial  thing;  not  confining  itself  to 
certain  times,  and  places,  and  occasions,  but  form- 
ing an  integral  part  of  the  character,  and  blending 
with  every  occupation.  It  is  noble  and  lofty,  not 
11 


122  THE  MEANS  OF  SAFETY". 

an  abject,  servile,  and  grovelling  thing;  it  com- 
munes with  God,  with  truth,  with  holiness,  with 
heaven,  with  eternity,  and  infinity.  It  is  a  happy, 
and  not  a  melancholy  thing,  giving  a  peace  that 
passeth  understanding,  and  a  joy  that  is  unspeak- 
able and  full  of  glory.  And  it  is  a  durable,  not  a 
transient  thing,  passing  with  us  through  life, 
lying  down  with  us  on  the  pillow  of  death,  rising 
with  us  at  the  last  day,  and  dwelling  in  our  souls 
in  heaven  as  the  very  element  of  eternal  life. 
Such  is  religion,  the  sublimest  thing  in  our  world, 
sent  down  to  be  our  comforter  and  ministering 
angel  on  earth, 

"  Our  guide  to  everlasting  life 
Through  all  this  gloomy  vals." 


RELIGION  A  PRESERVATIVE  FROM  SIN.  123 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

RELIGION  CONSIDERED  AS  A  PRESERVATIVE  FROM  SIN. 

You  want,  young  man,  a  shield  always  at  hand, 
and  which  is  impenetrable  by  the  arrows  of  your 
enemies,  to  defend  you  from  the  perils  to  which 
you  are  exposed,  and  you  find  it  in  religion ;  and  it 
does  this  by  various  means.  It  changes  the  moral 
nature,  producing  a  dislike  and  dread  of  sin,  and  a 
love  of  holiness  and  virtue.  Piety  is  a  spiritual 
taste ;  and,  like  every  other  taste,  it  is  accompanied 
with  a  distaste  for  the  opposites  of  those  things  or 
qualities  which  are  the  subjects  of  its  complacency. 
Sin  is  that  bitter  thing  which  the  soul  of  a  true 
Christian  hates ;  it  is  the  object  of  his  antipathy, 
and  therefore  of  his  dread.  He  turns  frorn  it  with 
aversion  and  loathing,  as  that  which  is  offensive 
and  disgusting.  It  is  not  merely  that  he  is  com- 
manded by  authority  to  abstain  from  sin,  but  he  is 
led  away  from  it  by  inclination.  He  may  have 
sinful  propensities  of  his  animal  nature,  but  he  re- 
sists the  indulgence  of  them,  for  it  is  sin  against 
God.  Now  what  can  be  a  more  effectual  protec- 
tion from  a  practice  or  habit  than  an  actual  dislike 
of  it,  or  distaste  for  it  ?  Who  does  that  which  he 
dislikes  to  do,  except  under  compulsion  ?  When 
you  have  once  tasted  the  sweetness  of  religion, 
how  insipid,  how  nauseous,  will  be  those  draughts 


124  RELIGION  A  PRESERVATIVE  FROM  SIN. 

of  vicious  pleasure  with  which  the  sinner  intoxi- 
cates and  poisons  his  soul  ?  When  you  have  ac- 
quired a  relish  for  the  pure,  calm,  satisfying  joys 
of  faith  and  holiness,  how  entirely  will  you  disrel- 
ish the  polluting,  boisterous,  and  unsatisfying  pleas- 
ures of  sin  !  When  you  have  once  drunk  of  the 
waters  of  the  river  of  life,  clear  as  crystal,  proceed- 
ing from  the  throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb,  how 
loathsome  will  be  the  filthy,  turbid  streams  of 
licentious  gratification !  The  new  nature,  by  its 
own  powerful  and  holy  instinct,  will  turn  away 
your  feet  from  every  forbidden  place,  and  every 
unhallowed  scene.  Panting  after  God,  and  thirst- 
ing for  the  living  God,  taking  pleasure  in  his  ways, 
and  delighting  in  the  communion  of  the  saints, 
you  will  shudder  at  the  idea  of  being  found  in  the 
haunts  of  vice,  or  in  the  society  of  the  vicious.  It 
will  be  unnecessary  to  forbid  your  going  to  the 
tavern,  the  theatre,  the  house  of  ill  fame,  the 
gambling-table,  or  horse-race ;  your  own  renewed 
and  sanctified  nature  will  be  a  law  against  these 
things,  and  compel  the  exclamation,  "  I  will  not 
sit  with  vain  persons,  nor  go  in  with  dissemblers ; 
I  have  hated  the  congregation  of  evil-doers,  and 
will  not  sit  with  the  wicked.  Gather  not  my  soul 
with  sinners." 

In  addition  to  this,  religion  will  implant  in  your 
hearts  a  regard  to  the  authority  and  presence  of 
God.  "  By  the  fear  of  the  Lord,"  says  Solomon, 
"  men  depart  from  evil."  This  veneration  for  God, 
comes  in  to  aid  the  operations  of  a  holy  taste.  By 


RELIGION  A  PRESERVATIVE  FROM  SIN.  125 

the  fear  of  God  I  do  not  mean  a  slavish  and  tor- 
menting dread  of  the  Divine  Being,  which  haunts 
the  mind  like  an  ever  present  spectre, — this  is 
superstition,  not  religion ;  but  I  mean  a  fear  spring- 
ing out  of  affection,  the  fear  of  a  child  dreading  to 
offend  the  father  whom  he  loves.  What  a  restraint 
from  sin  is  there  in  that  child's  mind !  he  may  be 
absent  from  his  father ;  but  love  keeps  him  from 
doing  what  his  father  disapproves.  So  it  is  with 
religion  ;  it  is  love  to  God,  and  love  originates  fear, 
He  who  is  thus  blessed  with  the  love  and  fear  of 
God  is  armed  as  with  a  shield  of  triple  brass, 
against  sin.  The  temptation  comes  with  all  its 
seductive  force,  but  it  is  repelled  with  the  indig- 
nant question,  "How  shall  I  do  this  wickedness,  and 
sin  against  God  ?"  And  then  this  awful  Being  is 
everywhere.  "  0  Lord,  thou  hast  searched  me, 
and  known  me.  Thou  knowest  my  downsitting 
and  mine  uprising,  thou  understandest  my  thought 
afar  off.  Thou  compassest  my  path  and  my  lying 
down,  and  art  acquainted  with  all  my  ways,"  Psa. 
cxxxix.  1 — 3.  Yes,  God  is  in  every  place.  Heaven 
and  the  earth  are  full  of  his  presence.  A  person 
once  dreamed  that  the  sky  was  one  vast  eye  of 
God,  ever  looking  down  upon  him.  He  could 
never  get  out  of  the  sight  of  this  tremendous  eye. 
He  could  never  look  up  but  this  awful  eye  was 
gazing  upon  him.  The  moral  of  this  fearful  dream 
is  a  fact.  God's  eye  is  always,  and  everywhere, 
upon  us.  Who  could  sin,  if  he  saw  God  in  a  bodily 
form  looking  upon  him.  Young  man,  could  you  go 
11* 


126          RELIGION  A  PRESERVATIVE  FROM  SIN. 

to  the  theatre,  or  to  still  worse  places,  if  you  saw 
this  vast  and  searching  eye,  with  piercing  looks, 
fixed  upon  you  ?  Impossible.  "  No,"  you  would 
say,  "  I  must  wait  till  that  eye  is  gone,  or  closed,  or 
averted."  But  it  is  never  gone,  never  closed,  never 
averted.  This  the  religious  man  knows,  and  there- 
fore says,  "  Thou,  God,  seest  me."  Would  you  sin, 
if  your  father  were  present  ?  Would  you  enter  the 
haunt  of  vice  if  he  stood  at  the  door,  looking  in 
your  face,  and  saying,  "  My  son,  if  sinners  entice 
thee,  consent  thou  not;  my  son,  walk  not  thou  in 
the  way  with  them,  turn  thy  foot  from  their  path  ?" 
You  could  not  so  insult  and  grieve  the  good  man's 
heart.  But  though  your  earthly  father  is  not  there, 
your  heavenly  Father  is.  Your  father's  eye  does 
not  see  you,  but  God's  eye  does.  This  the  reli- 
gious person  believes  and  feels,  and  turns  away 
from  sin. 

Then  religion  presents  a  judgment  to  come. 
Yes.  "  God  hath  appointed  a  day  in  which  he  will 
judge  the  world  by  Jesus  Christ."  "  We  must  all 
appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ;  that 
every  one  may  receive  the  things  done  injiis  body, 
according  to  that  he  hath  done,  whether  it  be  good 
or  bad."  "  And  I  saw  a  great  white  throne,  and 
him  that  sat  on  it,  from  whose  face  the  earth  and 
the  heaven  fled  away ;  and  there  was  found  no 
place  for  them.  And  I  saw  the  dead,  small  and 
great,  stand  before  God ;  and  the  books  were  open- 
ed :  and  another  book  was  opened,  which  is  the 
book  of  life :  and  the  dead  were  judged  out  of  those 


RELIGION  A  PRESERVATIVE  FROM  SIN.  127 

things  which  were  written  in  the  books,  according 
to  their  works.  And  the  sea  gave  up  the  dead 
which  were  in  it ;  and  death  and  hell  delivered  up 
the  dead  which  were  in  them  •  and  they  were 
judged  every  man  according  to  their  works."  What 
a  description  !  What  a  day  will  be  the  judgment- 
day  !  The  shout  of  the  descending  God ;  the  voice 
of  the  archangel,  and  the  trump  of  God;  the  burst- 
ing tombs,  and  rising  dead ;  the  conflagration  of 
the  universe^  and  the  gathering  of  the  nations  to 
the  Lord  in  the  air;  the  separation  of  the  righteous 
from  the  wicked ;  and  the  final  doom  of  all ;  the 
closing  of  time,  and  the  commencing  of  eternity ; 
the  going  away  of  the  wicked  into  everlasting 
punishment,  and  of  the  righteous  into  life  eternal ! 
Oh,  what  destinies !  The  good  man  believes  all 
this,  and  acts  under  its  influence.  How  many  has 
the  prospect  of  the  day  of  judgment  alarmed  in  the 
midst  of  their  sins ;  how  many  has  it  checked ; 
how  many  has  it  been  the  means  of  converting !  I 
knew  a  lady  in  high  life,  one  of  the  most  accom- 
plished women  I  ever  met  with,  who,  while  living 
in  all  the  gayeties  of  fashionable  life,  visiting  in 
noble  families,  and  fascinating  them  by  her  power 
to  please,  dreamed  that  the  day  of  judgment  was 
arrived.  She  saw  the  Judge,  in  awful  majesty, 
commence  the  dread  assize.  Around  him,  in  a 
circle,  the  diameter  of  which  no  eye  could  meas- 
ure, was  drawn  the  human  race,  awaiting  their 
doom.  With  slow  and  solemn  pace,  he  traversed 
ihe  whole  circle;  whomsoever  he  approved,  to 


128  RELIGION  A  PRESERVATIVE  FROM  SIN. 

them  he  gave  the  token  of  his  acceptance  by  gra- 
ciously laying  his  hand  upon  their  heads.  Many 
he  passed,  and  gave  them  no  sign.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  dreamer,  her  anxiety  to  know  whethei 
she  should  receive  the  token  of  his  acceptance  be- 
came intense,  till  as  he  drew  still  nearer,  and  was 
about  to  stop  before  her,  the  agony  of  her  mind 
awoke  her.  It  was  but  a  dream :  a  blessed  one, 
however,  for  her.  It  produced,  through  the  Divine 
blessing,  a  deep  solicitude  for  the  salvation  of  her 
soul.  She  became  an  eminent  and  devoted  Chris- 
tian ;  and  some  years  since  departed,  to  receive 
from  Christ  the  gracious  token  of  his  approval,  in 
his  immediate  presence,  and  in  the  regions  of  im- 
mortality. 

You,  too,  young  man,  must  be  brought  into 
judgment.  You  are  to  form  a  part  of  the  circle 
drawn  round  Christ,  to  receive  your  sentence;  he 
will  approach  you  ;  he  will  give  you  the  token  of 
reception  or  rejection.  Do,  do  consider  that  tre- 
mendous scene.  How  awful  was  the  irony  of 
Solomon  !  "  Rejoice,  0  young- man,  in  thy  youth; 
and  let  thy  heart  cheer  thee  in  the  days  of  thy 
youth,  and  walk  in  the  ways  of  thine  heart,  and 
in  the  sight  of  thine  eyes  :  but  know  thou,  that  for 
all  these  things  God  will  bring  thee  into  judg- 
ment," Eccles.  xi.  9.  You  may  go  to  places  of 
vicious  amusement,  but  you  must  go  from  thence 
to  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ :  there  is  a  path 
from  every  scene  of  sin  to  the  bar  of  God.  He 
goes  with  you  as  a  witness ;  and  conscience  also 


RELIGION  A  PRESERVATIVE  FROM  SIN.  129 

goes  with  you  as  a  witness  :  what  witnesses  these 
TO  be  "brought  against  you  in  judgment !  "  7  will 
come  near  to  you  to  judgment,  and  1  will  be  a 
swift  witness  against  all  that  fear  not  me,  saith 
the  Lord,"  Mai.  iii.  5.  Oh,  did  you  realize  this 
awful  fact,  did  you  keep  your  eye  upon  the  judg- 
ment-seat, did  you  anticipate  your  appearance  at 
the  bar  of  Christ,  which  religious  men  do,  and 
which  religion  would  lead  you  to  do  if  you  pos- 
sessed it,  how  effectually  would  you  be  protected 
from  the  evils  by  which  you  are  surrounded. 
Could  you  sin,  with  a  voice  sounding  in  your  ears, 
"  For  all  these  things  I  will  bring  you  into  judg- 
ment ?"  No ;  here  would  be  a  defence  to  you,  as 
it  has  been  to  many  others,  and  is  to  many  now, 
Adopt  it  as  yours. 


130  COMFORT  AND  HAPPINESS, 


CHAPTER  IX. 

RELIGION   CONSIDERED  AS  LEADING   TO   COMFORT 
AND   HAPPINESS. 

"  YOUNG  men  away  from  home  must  have  some- 
thing," you  are  ready  to  say,  "  to  interest,  to 
amuse,  to  gratify  them.  They  have  heen  called 
to  sacrifice  the  comforts  of  their  father's  house, 
and  to  endure  many  hardships,  and  much  discom- 
fort, and  need  something  to  enliven  and  divert 
their  minds:"  True.  But  it  should  be  of  a  kind 
that  would  not  endanger  their  health,  their  morals, 
or  their  future  interests,  and  especially  their  souls. 
To  seek  relief  from  the  labours  of  business,  the 
gloom  of  solitude,  or  the  annoyance  of  an  unpleas- 
ant domicil,  by  "  the  pleasures  of  sin,  which  are 
but  for  a  season,"  is  to  recruit  our  wearied  nature, 
and  to  enliven  our  dull  frame,  by  drinking  a  sweet 
tasted  and  effervescing  draught  of  deadly  poison. 
That  young  man  is  not  only  not  pious,  but  scarcely 
acts  the  part  of  a  rational  creature,  whose  love  of 
diversion  leads  him  to  seek  such  gratifications  as 
are  ruinous  to  all  his  interests  for  time  and  eternity. 
A  love  of  pleasure,  a  taste  for  amusement,  as  such, 
is  a  most  dangerous  propensity.  Business,  young 
man,  business,  is  what  you  should  attend  to. 
There  is  pleasure  in  industry.  Employment  is 
gratification.  But  still  you  repeat,  "We  must 


COMFORT  AND  HAPPINESS.  131 

have  something  to  interest  the  mind  when  busi- 
ness is  over;  which  shall  be  a  subject  of»hopeand 
mental  occupation,  to  fill  up  the  interstices  ot" 
thought  during  the  day,  and  that  shall  be  an  object 
to  which  the  mind  may  constantly  turn  for  refresh- 
ment and  relief  amidst  all  that  is  disgusting  and 
disheartening  in  the  rough  cares  of  our  situation." 
Well,  here  it  is !  Here  is  a  glorious  object !  Here 
is  what  you  want,  just  what  you  want,  and  all  you 
want.  RELIGION,  religion,  my  reader,  will  prove 
to  be,  if  you  try  it,  an  engaging  companion,  a  sym- 
pathizing comforter,  an  ever  present  friend,  and 
a  sure  guide  to  the  fountain  of  happiness.  Do 
not  listen  to  the  ignorant  testimony  of  those  who 
have  never  tried  it,  and  who  represent  it  as  the 
enemy  of  human  delight ;  but  attend  to  the  intelli- 
gent witness  of  those  who  speak  from  experience, 
and  who  declare  it  to  be  the  very  element  of  hap- 
piness. Who  would  take  the  evidence  of  a  blind 
man  about  colour  and  form;  or  of  a  deaf  one 
about  sounds  ;  or  of  one  without  the  sense  of  taste 
about  flavour?  And  equally  irrational  would  it 
be  to  take  the  opinion  of  an  ungodly  man  about 
religion. 

It  is  a  truth,  which  the  experience  of  millions 
has  proved,  that  "Wisdom's  ways  are  ways  of 
pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths  are  peace."  Con- 
sider what  religion  is :  not  mere  bodily  exercise,  a 
drudgery  of  mere  forms  and  ceremonies :  no,  but 
an  occupation  of  the  mind  and  heart ;  an  occupa- 
tion, too,  which  engages  the  noblest  contemplation 


132  COMPORT  AND  HAPPINESS. 

of  the  former,  and  exercises  the  purest  affections 
of  the  latter.  It  is  the  employment  of  the  whole 
soul  upon  the  sublimest  object  that  mind  can  be 
conversant  with.  Mental  occupation  is  essential 
to  felicity,  and  here  it  is  in  perfection  and  perma- 
nence. Dwell  upon  the  privileges  of  religion  :  the 
pardon  of  sin  ;  the  justification  of  our  persons  ;  the 
favour  of  the  eternal  G-od,  together  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  that  favour,  and  communion  with 
Him ;  peace  of  conscience,  like  the  sunshine  of  the 
breast ;  the  renovation  of  our  corrupt  nature ;  and 
the  subjection  of  passion,  appetite,  and  animal  pro- 
pensity, to  rules  which  revelation  prescribes  and 
reason  approves:  and  all  this  united  with  the 
hope,  and  prospect,  and  foretaste  of  eternal  glory. 
I  ask,  can  the  man  whose  mind  is  in  this  state  be 
otherwise  than  happy  ?  I  wish  to  impress  you 
with  the  idea  that  the  individual  who'  is  thus  reli- 
gious, whose  piety  is  scriptural,  evangelical,  ex- 
perimental ;  and  not  superstitious,  nominal,  and 
ignorant, — must  be  happy;  not  indeed  perfectly 
so,  for  that  belongs  exclusively  to  the  heavenly 
world ;  but  he  is  contented  and  satisfied,  as  being 
in  a  state  of  repose.  His  mind  is  not  anxiously 
and  ignorantly  urging  the  question,  "  Who  will 
show  us  any  good  ?"  He  has  a  definite  idea  of 
what  will  make  him  happy ;  he  is  not  in  quest  of 
something  to  occupy  his  mind  and  satisfy  his 
heart,  but  has  found  it,  and  is  at  rest.  He  has 
become  possessed  of  a  supreme  object  of  interest, 
which  his  heart  loves,  and  his  conscience  approves, 


COMFORT  AND  HAPPINESS.  133 

an  object  which  has  many  and  great  advantages; 
it  is  always  at  hand,  for  it  is  WITH  him,  yea,  in 
him.  He  proves  the  truth  of  the  assertion,  "  The 
good  man  shall  be  satisfied  from  himself;"  because 
the  spring  of  his  happiness  is  in  his  own  bosom. 
He  is  calm  and  tranquil :  his  pleasures  are  not  only 
pure,  but  peaceful;  they  occasion  no  perturbation, 
no  painful  reflection,  no  remorse;  they  are  unex- 
pensive ;  they  do  not  unfit  him  for  business,  nor 
create  in  him  a  disgust  with  his  trade  or  profes- 
sion, but  brace  and  invigorate  him  to  carry  on  its 
labours,  and  endure  its  cares;  they  do  not  impair 
his  health  or  enervate  his  mind,  but  are  all  of  a 
healthful  nature,  both  as  regards  the  body  and  the 
soul. 

Religion,  moreover,  includes  duties  that  are  all 
agreeable.  The  love  of  God,  the  service  of  Christ, 
the  practice  of  holiness,  the  destruction  of  sin, 
the  cultivation  of  charity,  are  all  pleasant.  The 
Christian,  in  keeping  holy  the  sabbath  in  the 
house  of  God,  enjoys  far  more  delight  than  he 
who  desecrates  it  by  Sunday  excursions.  The 
reading  of  the  Bible,  if  it  does  not  fascinate  the 
imagination,  and  kindle  the  passions,  like  a  novel 
or  licentious  poem,  soothes  and  softens,  and  sanc- 
tifies the  heart.  Prayer  is  one  of  the  most  eleva- 
ting exercises  in  which  the  soul  can  be  engaged, 
for  it  is  man  speaking  to  God ;  the  poor  frail,  finite 
child  of  dust  and  ashes,  admitted,  through  the 
mediation  of  Chris! ,  to  an  audience  with  the 
King,  eternal,  immortal,  invisible,  the  only  wise 
12 


£34  COMFORT  AND  HAPPINESS. 

God.  And  as  to  the  pleasures  of  friendship, 
where  are  they  enjoyed  in  such  perfection  as  in 
the  communion  of  saints  ? 

Nor  is  this  all ;  for  religion  supplies  an  inex- 
haustible source  of  the  deepest  interest,  in  the 
various  great  and  glorious  institutions  which  are 
formed,  and  in  operation,  to  promote  the  moral, 
spiritual,  and  eternal  welfare  of  mankind;  to 
many  of  these,  young  men  are  contributing,  in 
different  ways,  their  valuable  assistance.  I  can 
with  confidence  ask,  whether  the  polluted  and 
polluting  scenes  of  earthly  pleasure,  to  which 
many  resort,  can  yield  half  the  satisfaction  which 
is  enjoyed  at  public  meetings  of  religious  institu- 
tions, where  interesting  facts  unite  to  captivate 
the  imagination  and  delight  the  heart :  at  the  fes- 
tive scene  of  a  tea-party,  held  by  a  company  of 
Sunday-school  teachers,  or  by  the  collectors  of  a 
juvenile  missionary  society,  or  the  members  of  a 
society  for  mental  improvement,  there  is  more 
real  enjoyment  than  in  any  of  those  sinful  diver- 
sions ia  which  men  of  corrupt  taste  find  theii 
amusement.  The  great  moral  enterprize  for  the 
conversion  of  the  world,  now  carrying  on  its  ope- 
rations through  all  lands,  supplies  an  object  of  un- 
rivalled sublimity,  splendour,  and  importance,  and 
which,  by  firing  the  ambition,  and  employing  the 
energies  of  youthful  piety,  never  fails  to  be  pro- 
ductive of  pure  delight,  as  often  as  the  eye  con- 
templates it,  or  the  mind  is  conscious  of  pro- 
moting it. 


COMFORT  AND  HAPPINESS.  135 

I  remember,  once  when  I  was  leaving  my  home, 
which  I  had  visited  for  a  short  season,  my  mind 
was  pensive  and  sad,  as  I  contrasted  the  comforts  I 
had  left  with  the  disagreeable  circumstances  to 
which  I  was  returning.  My  heart  was  swelling 
with  its  sorrows,  as  I  rode  slowly  along,  till  reli- 
gion came  to  my  relief.  "  God,"  I  said,  "  is  in 
every  place ;  I  am  going  away  from  my  father's 
house,  but  I  am  not  going  from  my  God."  This 
thought  seemed  like  the  bow  of  mercy  upon  the 
cloud  of  my  dark  and  troubled  thoughts ;  I  put 
spurs  to  my  horse,  and  went  on  my  way  rejoicing. 
I  was  also  returning  to  a  beloved  circle  of  reli- 
gious friends,  and  to  the  duties  of  a  Sunday-school, 
which  had  already  engaged  my  heart. 

I  may  truly  say,  that  as  regards  myself,  in  a 
situation  in  many  respects  uncomfortable  to  the 
last  degree,  so  that  my  heart  often  sickened  as  I 
rose  from  my  bed,  to  contemplate  the  duties  of  the 
coming  day,  religion,  then  newly  gained,  was  al- 
most my  only  comfort ;  and  a  comfort  indeed  it 
was  to  me.  To  what  sources  of  amusement  I 
might  have  repaired  but  for  this  I  tremble  to 
think,  as  memory  turns  back  upon  the  scenes  of 
my  youth.  Before  Divine  grace  had  changed  my 
heart,  I  was  fond  of  the  theatre,  but  religion  came 
to  my  aid,  with  all  its  holy  and  peaceful  enjoy- 
ments, and  then  I  found  a  consolation  under  every 
annoyance,  and  a  source  of  enjoyment  which  ren- 
dered many  things  tolerable  that  would  have  been 
otherwise  hard  to  bear. 


136  '  COJIFCRT  AND  HAPPINESS. 

Blessed  with  true  piety,  a  youth  may  be  happy 
any,  and  everywhere.  The  apprentice,  serving 
the  most  tyrannical  master,  or  oppressed  by  the 
most  unfeeling  and  hard-hearted  mistress,  will 
still  find,  if  he  possesses  religion,  a  relief  suffi- 
cient to  lighten  the  yoke  and  soften  the  rigours  of 
the  service.  And  how  will  it  cheer  the  solitude 
of  the  clerk  or  the  shopman  in  his  private  lodg- 
ings, when  neither  friend  nor  companion  is  near  ! 
There  he  can  commune  with  his  God,  and  pray  to 
his  heavenly  Father,  though  his  earthly  one  be  far 
from  him.  He  is  not  now  tempted  to  leave  his 
cheerless  dwelling  in  quest  of  comfort,  for  he  can 
find  enough  in  religious  exercises :  or  if  he  wishes, 
as  he  lawfully  may  do,  to  relieve  his  solitude,  he 
can  be  happy  in  hearing  a  sermon,  or  going  to  the 
meeting  of  some  committee  with  which  he  is 
connected,  or  to  the  public  meeting  of  some  soci- 
ety which  may  be  held  in  the  neighbourhood. 
Solitude  itself  is  not  disagreeable,  for  he  wishes 
to  cultivate  his  mind  by  knowledge,  and  his  hean 
by  piety ;  and  when  exchanged  for  social  inter- 
course and  pleasures,  these  are  of  a  kind  to  do 
him  not  harm,  but  good.  Religion  thus  makes 
him  comfortable  whether  alone  or  in  society. 
Young  man,  I  want  you  to  be  happy,  and  I  am 
sure  there  is  only  one  thing  that  will  make  you 
so,  and  that  is,  true  piety.  You  may  be  amused 
and  gratified,  pleased  and  diverted,  at  least  for  a 
while,  without  this ;  but  amusement  and  diver- 
sion are  only  substitutes  for  happiness,  not  the 


COMFORT  AND  HAPPINESS,  137 

thing  itself.  Man  was  made  for  the  service  and 
enjoyment  of  God,  and  he  cannot  be  truly  happy 
till  he  is  brought  to  answer  the  end  of  his  crea- 
tion. How  important,  then,  is  it,  that  you  should 
begin  life  with  correct  views  of  this  subject !  How 
much  misery  will  it  save  you  from,  to  mind  reli- 
gion young !  A  course  of  iniquity  must,  sooner  or 
later,  end  in  misery.  Even  while  the  pleasures 
of  sin  last,  they  are  sadly  mixed  with  the  warn- 
ings, perturbations,  and  reproaches  of  conscience. 
Sin  is  a  hard  master,  and  Satan's  service  is  often 
a  galling  yoke.  Religion  will  save  you  from  all 
this,  and  impose  in  its  place  a  yoke  which  is  easy, 
and  a  burden  which  is  light. 

Who  can  tell  what  sorrow  awaits  him  in  future 
life  ?  Oh,  could  I  lift  up  the  vail  of  futurity,  and 
disclose  the  scenes  of  your  history,  how  would 
your  heart  sink  to  foresee  the  trials  that  are  in  re- 
serve for  you.  Setting  out  upon  the  voyage  of 
life,  with  a  bright  sky,  a  smooth  sea,  a  fair  wind, 
and  every  sail  filled  with  the  propitious  breeze, 
you  may  soon  have  to  encounter  the  storm  that 
shall  reduce  you  to  a  wreck  on  some  inhospitable 
shore.  Your  trade  may  fail,  your  wife  may  die, 
and  your  constitution  sink  under  the  pressure  of 
accumulated  woes.  What  is  there  to  comfort 
and  support  you  amidst  solitude,  and  the  long, 
dark,  wintry  night  of  adversity  ?  Religion,  had 
you  sought  it  in  the  season  of  youth  and  health, 
would  have  helped  you  to  sustain  the  shock  of 
misfortune  by  its  consoling  and  strengthening  in- 
12* 


138  COMFORT  AND  HAPPINESS. 

fiuence ;  but  you  have  neglected  it,  and  in  its  ab- 
sence there  is  nothing  human  or  Divine  to  support 
you,  and  you  fall,  first,  into  poverty,  then  to  drink- 
ing, then  to  the  grave,  and  then  to  the  bottomless 
pit.  How  many  who  have  died  of  a  broken 
heart,  or  as  martyrs  to  drunkenness,  and  have  gone 
from  the  sorrows  of  time  to  the  torments  of  eter- 
nity, would,  if  they  had  possessed  religion,  not- 
withstanding their  misfortunes,  have  lived  in 
peace,  died  in  hope,  and  been  blessed  for  ever ! 
Religion,  if  it  led  only  to  misery  upon  earth,  if  it 
were  really  the  gloomy  and  pleasure-destroying 
thing  which  many  represent  it,  and  others  believe  it 
to  be,  yet,  as  it  leads  from  everlasting  misery  to  eter- 
nal bliss  hereafter,  would  be  our  highest  as  well  as 
our  incumbent  duty ;  for  who  would  not  escape 
from  hell  and  flee  to  heaven,  if  it  could  only  be  done 
by  passing  through  Cimmerian  shades,  or  a  per- 
petual martyrdom  ?  but  instead  of  this,  true  piety 
is  the  most  serene  and  delightsome  thing  on  earth. 
It  is  the  sweetener  of  our  comforts,  the  softener 
of  our  cares,  the  solace  of  our  sorrows.  It  de- 
prives us  of  no  enjoyment  but  what  would  injure 
us,  and  gives  other  and  far  better  ones  in  place 
of  those  it  takes.  It  is  the  spring  flower  of 
youth,  the  summer  sun  of  our  manhood,  the 
autumn  fruits  of  our  declining  years,  and  the 
lunar  brightness  of  the  wintry  night  of  our  old 
age.  It  is  a  verdant,  quiet,  secluded  path  to  the 
paradise  of  God,  and,  after  giving  us  the  light 
of  his  countenance  in  life,  the  support  of  his 


COMFORT  AND  HAPPINESS.  139 

grace  in  death,  will  conduct  us  to  his  pres- 
ence, where  there  is  fulness  of  joy,  and  to  his 
right  hand,  where  there  are  pleasures  for  ever- 
more. 


)40  TEMPORAL  INTEREST. 


CHAPTER  X. 

RELIGION  VIEWED  AS  A    MEANS   OF  PROMOTING    THB 
TEMPORAL  INTEREST  OF   ITS  POSSESSOR. 

DID  you  ever  consider  that  beautiful  allegory 
which  is  drawn  by  the  pen  of  inspiration  in  the 
third  chapter  of  Proverbs  ?  "  Happy  is  the  man 
that  findeth  wisdom,  and  the  man  that  getteth 
understanding.  For  the  merchandise  of  it  is  better 
than  the  merchandise  of  silver,  and  the  gain  there* 
of  jthan  fine  gold.  She  is  more  precious  than 
rubies,  and  all  the  things  that  thou  canst  desire 
are  not  to  be  compared  unto  her.  Length  of  days 
is  in  her  right  hand :  and  in  her  left  hand  riches 
and  honour.  Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness, 
and  all  her  paths  are  peace.  She  is  a  tree  of  life 
to  them  that  lay  hold  upon  her:  and  happy  is 
every  one  that  retaineth  her."  This  is  one  of 
those  sparkling  gems  of  composition  which  deco- 
rate and  enliven  the  pages  of  Scripture ;  it  is  as 
poetically  elegant,  as  it  is  morally  useful.  I 
scarcely  need  to  observe  that  by  wisdom  here, 
we  are  to  understand  religion;  for  the  sacred 
writer  has  defined  the  meaning  of  the  term  where 
he  says,  "  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of 
wisdom :  a  good  understanding  have  all  they  that 
do  his  commandments."  The  general  idea  pre- 
sented is,  that  religion  is  happiness :  "  Happy  is 


TEMPORAL  INTEREST.  141 

ike  man  that  findeth  wisdom ;"  and  the  qualities 
of  that  happiness  are  described  :  it  is  transcendent  ; 
for  it  is  better  and  more  to  be  coveted  than  silver, 
gold,  or  rubies,  and  all  the  gains  of  the  most  prof- 
itable merchandise :  it  is  comprehensive ;  for,  is 
length  of  days  a  blessing  1  it  is  in  her  right  hand  ; 
or  riches  and  honour  ?  they  are  in  her  left ;  or 
pleasure  ?  her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and 
her  paths  peace :  it  is  paradisaic  bliss ;  for  it  is 
the  fruit  of  that  tree  of  life  which  grows  in  hea- 
ven, and  drops  its  produce  upon  earth  ;  it  is 
Divine,  being  a  participation  of  the  happiness  of 
God  himself,  whose  wisdom  is  his  glory  and  bles- 
sedness. GO,  young  man,  to  this  beautiful  person- 
ification, this  angel  form ;  she  has  length  of  days 
in  her  right  hand.  Religion  will  not  necessarily 
ensure  health  and  avert  disease ;  but  it  will  pre- 
vent the  constitution  from  being  destroyed  or  im- 
paired by  vice.  Read  the  description  which  is 
given  of  the  consequences  of  sin  in  the  book  of 
Job,  (ch.  xi.  11,)  as  exhibited  in  an  aged  worn  out 
sinner,  "  His  bones  are  full  of  the  sin  of  his  youth, 
which  shall  lie  down  with  him  in  the  dust,"  and 
then  add  the  language  of  Solomon,  where  he  says, 
"  and  thou  mourn  at  the  last,  when  thy  flesh  and 
thy  bones  are  consumed,  and  say  *  How  have  I 
hated  instruction,  and  my  heart  despised  reproof: 
and  have  not  obeyed  the  voice  of  my  teachers,  nor 
inclined  mine  ear  to  them  that  instructed  me !  I 
was  almost  in  all  evil  in  the  midst  of  the  congre- 
gation and  assembly,' "  Prov.  v.  12 — 14.  Martyrs 


145  TEMPORAL  INTEREST. 

of  concupiscence,  victims  of  drunkenness,  ye  loath- 
some spectacles,  ye  living  corpses,  full  of  every- 
thing that  is  tormenting  to  yourselves  and  disgust- 
ing to  others,  rise  like  spectres  before  the  imagi- 
nation of  young  men,  to  deter  them  from  the 
crimes  which  have  reduced  you  to  corruption, 
even  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  Religion  would 
have  guarded  you  from  all  this !  Such  men  live 
out  not  half  their  days.  But  see,  what  is  in  the 
left  hand  of  wisdom ;  "riches  and  honour."  Not 
that  religion  shields  from  poverty,  and  guides  all 
her  subjects  to  wealth :  but  still  it  prevents  the 
crimes  which  lead  to  the  one,  and  implants  the 
virtues  which  tend  to  the  other.  Sin  is  an  expen- 
sive thing,  as  we  have  already  considered ;  it  is  a 
constant  drain  upon  the  pocket,  and  keeps  a  man 
poor,  or  makes  him  dishonest :  while  piety  is  fru- 
gal, industrious,  sober,  and  prudent;  it  makes  a 
man  trust-worthy,  confidential,  and  procures  for 
him  esteem,  preference,  and  station.  Do  you  wish 
to  prosper,  and  get  on  in  the  world  ?  (and  it  is 
quite  lawful  for  you  to  wish  it,  you  ought  indeed 
to  wish  it,)  go  to  wisdom,  and  take  the  blessing, 
even  riches  and  honour,  which  she  has  in  her  left 
hand,  and  which  she  holds  out  to  you.  Go  and 
pluck  the  fruit  of  this  tree  of  life,  or  catch  the 
precious  produce  as  the  boughs  are  shaken  by  the 
favouring  gales  of  Providence. 

How  many  young  men  have  left  their  native 
village,  and  their  father's  house,  with  all  the  pro- 
perty they  had  on  earth  tied  up  in  the  bundle  they 


TEMPORAL  INTEREST,  143 

carried  in  their  hand,  and  have  gone  to  London 
poor  and  almost  friendless  lads,  who  yet,  because 
they  became  the  disciples  and  admirers  of  this 
wisdom,  have  risen  to  opulence  and  respectability ! 
What  names  could  I  record,  dear  to  the  church 
of  God,  and  known  to  the  friends  of  man  through- 
out the  country  and  world,  who  by  the  aid  of  reli- 
gion rose  from  obscurity  to  renown,  and  from 
poverty  to  wealth !  Their  history  is  a  striking 
proof  that  "godliness  is  profitable  unto  all  things, 
having  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is,  and  of  that 
which  is  to  come."  I  could  mention,  were  it 
proper,  the  name  of  one,  who  went  into  an  exten- 
sive concern  in  London  as  a  boy  to  sweep  the  shop 
and  carry  out  goods,  who  became  at  length  pos- 
sessor of  the  whole  concern,  died  rich,  and  his 
property,  in  part,  became  the  foundation  of  a  new 
charitable  institution:  of  another,  who,  from  a 
poor  lad,  became  a  leading  man  in  one  of  our  reli- 
gious denominations,  and  the  treasurer  of  one  of 
our  most  useful  societies :  of  a  third,  who,  from 
being  a  shop-boy  in  the  city,  became  the  possessor 
of  a  large  fortune,  which  at  his  decease  enriched 
many  of  the  noblest  institutions  of  the  present 
time.  In  each  case,  religion,  by  rendering  them 
steady,  industrious,  and  confidential,  was  the 
means  of  their  opulence  and  elevation.  They 
shunned  evil  companions,  evil  places,  evil  habits, 
evil  amusements,  and,  under  the  influence  of  piety, 
entered  those  paths  which  lead  many  from  poverty 
to  wealth  and  from  obscurity  to  renown.  They 


144  TEMPORAL  INTEREST. 

sat  down  as  young  men  at  the  feet  of  wisdom, 
learned  her  lessons,  and  received  her  rewards. 

I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  religion  without  appli- 
cation to  business,  or  talents  for  it,  will  succeed ; 
but  religion,  by  giving  diligence  and  sharpening  the 
faculties,  will  promote  success.  Piety  exerts  a 
favourable  influence,  not  only  on  the  morals  but 
on  the  secular  habits  of  life :  and  one  piece  of  ad- 
vice which  wisdom  delivers,  as  she  holds  out  hex 
left  hand  blessings,  is,  Be  diligent  in  business,  as 
well  as  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord,  Rom. 
xii.  1 1.  It  is  a  lawful  and  proper  ambition  to  try 
to  excel  in  the  profession  or  business  to  which  you 
have  devoted  your  life.  You  ought  not  to  be  sat- 
isfied with  dull  mediocrity,  much  less  with  creep- 
ing, grovelling  inferiority.  You  happily  live  in  a 
country  where  the  summits  of  society  are  accessi- 
ble to  those  who  seem,  by  the  circumstances  of 
their  birth,  to  be  placed  at  the  base.  The  father 
of  the  late  Sir  Robert  Peel  was  at  one  time  a 
journeyman  cotton-spinner ;  nor  is  there  any  legal 
bar  across  the  path  of  any  other  aspirant  after 
distinction;  but  it  is  only  talent,  united  with 
good  conduct,  that  can  expect  to  rise:  while 
incompetence,  which  is  more  frequently  the  result 
of  a  want  of  application  than  of  ability,  and  indo- 
lence, will  sink.  Piety  and  a  desire  to  excel  in 
business  are  helpful  to  each  other:  the  former 
will  give  the  virtues  necessary  to  the  latter,  while 
the  latter  will  guard  the  former  from  being  de- 
stroyed by  many  of  those  evils  to  which  youth  are 


TEMPORAL  INTEREST.  145 

exposed,  and  by  which  they  are  hindered  from 
getting  on  in  life. 

The  cultivation  of  the  mind  in  all  useful  know- 
ledge, is  also  auxiliary  to  elevation  in  life.  A  reli- 
gious dolt  may  rise,  but  it  is  not  usual.  Besides 
admitting  that  religion  does  sometimes  help  igno- 
rance up  the  steep  ascent  to  wealth,  it  is  know- 
ledge alone  that  can  fit  a  man  for  eminent  use- 

£> 

fulness.  Employ  your  spare  time  in  reading,  and 
acquiring  knowledge.  Ignorance  was  never  so 
inexcusable  as  it  is  now,  when  the  fountains  of 
science  are  opened  all  around  us,  and  the  streams 
of  learning  are  flowing  even  into  the  cottages  of. 
the  poor.  Religion  and  knowledge  are  harmoni- 
ous, and  reciprocally  helpful.  Let  your  reading 
be  select  and  useful.  Squander  not  the  little 
time  you  have  to  spare  upon  trash.  Read  history, 
natural  philosophy,  the  evidences  of  revealed  reli- 
gion, and  some  of  our  best  conducted  periodic?*! 
publications. 

How  well  is  that  young  man  defended  from  the 
dangers  that  surround  him,  and  how  likely  to  rise 
in  life,  who  has  religion  to  sanctify  his  heart,  ap- 
plication to  business  to  occupy  his  time,  and  a 
taste  for  reading  to  employ  his  leisure.  It  is  he 
that  receives  from  wisdom  the  blessings  she  holds 
forth  in  both  of  her  hands :  length  of  days  in  the 
right,  and  riches  and  honour  in  the  left:  anci 
at  the  same  time  it  is  his  to  gather  from  the  tree 
of  life  che  fruit  of  glory  and  immortality. 

13  ^ 


146  USEFULNESS. 

i 

CHAPTER  XL 

RELIGION    CONSIDERED   AS   A  MEANS   OF    USEFULNESS. 

To  do  good  is  God-like ;  to  do  evil  is  devil-like ; 
and  we  are  all  imitating  God  or  Satan,  accordingly 
as  we  are  leading  a  holy  or  a  sinful  life.  It  is 
said  in  Scripture,  that  "  one  sinner  destroyeth  much 
good;"  he  not  only  does  not  do  good  himself,  but 
he  destroys  good  in  others.  Instead  of  doing  good 
he  does  evil.  He  not  only  leaves  unassisted  all 
the  great  means  and  instruments  for  improving 
and  blessing  the  world,  and  has  no  share  in  all  that 
is  being  done  for  the  spiritual  and  eternal  welfare 
of  mankind ;  but  he  opposes  it,  and  seeks  to  per- 
petuate and  extend  the  reign  of  sin,  and  the  king- 
dom of  Satan.  He  corrupts  by  his  principles, 
seduces  by  his  example,  and  leads  others  astray 
by  his  persuasions.  Who  can  imagine,  I  again 
say,  how  many  miserable  ghosts  await  his  arrival 
in  hell,  or  follow  him  there  to  be  his  tormentors, 
in  revenge  for  his  having  been  their  tempter. 
He  is  ever  scattering  the  seeds  of  poison  and  death 
in  his  path.  Religion  happily  saves  from  this 
mischief  all  who  possess  it :  it  makes  a  man  an 
instrument  of  good  and  not  of  evil  to  his  fellow 
creatures;  it  renders  him  a  blessing,  and  not  a 
curse ;  a  saviour,  and  not  a  destroyer ;  a  physi- 
cian to  heal,  and  not  a  murderer  to  destroy.  Ho 


USEFULNESS.  147 

lives  to  do  good, — good  of  the  noblest  and  most 
lasting  kind;  good  to  the  soul,  good  to  distant 
nations,  good  to  the  world,  good  to  unborn  genera- 
tions, good  for  eternity.  He  is  a  benefactor  to  his 
species — a  philanthropist  of  the  noblest  order.  By 
a  pious  example,  he  adorns  religion,  and  recom- 
mends it  to  others,  who,  attracted  by  the  beauties 
of  holiness  as  they  are  reflected  from  his  character, 
are  led  to  imitate  his  conduct.  He  connects  him- 
self, while  yet  a  youth,  with  a  Sunday  school,  and 
trains  up  the  minds  of  his  scholars  in  the  ways  of 
virtue  and  religion.  He  associates  with  a  Tract 
Society,  and  visits  the  habitations  of  the  poor  with 
these  admirable  compends  of  Bible  truth.  As  life 
advances,  property  increases,  and  influence  becomes 
more  powerful,  his  sphere  of  usefulness  widens, 
his  energies  strengthen,  and  his  devotedness  be- 
comes more  intense.  He  consecrates  a  share  of 
his  gains  to  the  funds  of  Bible,  Missionary,  and 
various  other  societies,  and  gives  his  time,  his  wis- 
dom, and  his  labour  to  the  committees  that  direct 
their  affairs.  He  thus  lives  not  for  himself  alone, 
but  for  the  glory  of  God,  the  spread  of  religion, 
and  the  salvation  of  souls.  To  do  good  is  his  aim, 
his  delight,  his  business.  He  catches  the  spirit  of 
the  times,  and  is  a  man  of  the  age,  and  for  the 
age.  In  secret  he  swells  the  cloud  of  incense  that 
rises  from  the  church,  and  which  no  sooner  touches 
the  throne  of  grace  than  it  descends  in  ^bowers  of 
blessings  upon  the  world.  He  needs  not  the  intoxi- 
cating cup  of  worldly  amusement,  as  a  relief  and 


148  USEFULNESS. 

diversion  from  the  toils  of  business,  and  the  cares 
of  life,  but  drinks  a  purer  draught  from  the  fount- 
ain, whose  living  waters  he  is  engaged  in  convey- 
ing to  those  who  are  sinking  into  eternal  death. 
He  is  consulted  on  every  new  scheme  of  mercy, 
and  called  on  to  assist  in  working  it  for  the  relief 
of  human  wretchedness.  His  name  is  enrolled  on 
the  list  of  benefactors,  and  pronounced  with  respect 
by  all  who  know  him.  The  blessing  of  him  that 
was  ready  to  perish  cornes  upon  him,  and  he  has 
caused  the  widow's  heart  to  sing  for  joy.  Thus  he 
lives.  A  happy  death  terminates  a  holy  and  use- 
ful life.  "  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying  unto 
me,  Write,  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the 
Lord,  from  henceforth :  Yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that 
they  may  rest  from  their  labours ;  and  their  works 
do  follow  them."  He  is  received  into  glory  by  the 
Lord  Jesus,  who  with  a  smile  bids  him  welcome, 
saying,  "Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant, 
enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord."  And  there, 
among  the  glorified  saints,  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect,  are  some  of  the  Sunday  school  chil- 
dren whom  he  had  taught  to  fear  God  in  their  youth ; 
the  poor  whom  he  had  been  the  instrument  of 
converting  by  the  distribution  of  tracts ;  and  the 
heathen,  whom,  by  his  property,  his  time,  and  his 
wisdom,  given  to  the  support  of  missions,  he  had, 
in  co-operation  with  others,  been  the  means  of 
turning  from  dumb  idols  to  serve  the  living  and  the 
true  God.  Transcendent  scene  !  glorious  specta- 
cle !  His  usefulness  is  seen  in  living  forms  of  glory 


USEFULNESS.  149 

everlasting.  The  good  he  did  on  earth  follows  him 
to  heaven,  and  is  a  part  of  it.  He  will  never  cease 
to  reap  the  rich  reward  of  doing  good,  as  with 
adoring  wonder  and  rapturous  delight  he  hears  his 
name  repeated  with  grateful  praise,  in  the  golden 
streets  of  the  New  Jerusalem. 

Young  man,  have  you  ambition  ?  can  your  soul 
be  fired  with  the  name  of  glory  or  the  prospect  of 
noble  deeds  ?  Have  you  a  pulse  that  beats  to  the 
sound  of  immortality,  that  word  which  has  raised, 
and  led  to  action  an  army  of  heroic  spirits  panting 
for  fame?  Oh,  here,  here,  behold  an  object  worthy 
to  kindle  this  ardent  flame  in  the  human  breast. 
Here  is  the  high  road  to  renown,  and  here  alone. 
All  else  beside  religion,  and  that  which  religion 
produces,  shall  perish.  The  garlands  which  are 
hung  around  the  busts  which  have  been  placed  in 
the  temple  of  fame  shall  perish,  for  the  temple  it- 
self shall  perish  in  the  great  conflagration ;  but  here 
is  immortality.  Souls  are  immortal ;  religion  is 
immortal ;  salvation  is  immortal ;  and  so  is  the  re- 
nown of  him  "  who  converteth  a  sinner  from  the 
error  of  his  ways,  and  saveth  a  soul  from  death." 
This  renown  is  within  your  reach.  It  is  not  an 
object  of  only  official  and  ministerial  ambition; 
nor  merely  within  the  scope  of  great  wealth,  or 
lofty  genius,  or  commanding  influence;  but  of  real 
piety,  even  of  piety  in  youth,  and  of  piety  in  hum- 
nle  life.  The  honour  of  being  useful,  the  glory  of 
being  instrumental  in  saving  souls,  is  placed  with- 
in the  reach  of  the  youngest,  poorest,  and  most  il- 
13* 


150  USEFULNESS. 

literate  aspirant  after  the  mighty,  and  truly  sub- 
lime achievement. 

Never,  never,  my  young  friend,  were  there  such 
opportunities,  or  such  means  of  a  life  of  holy  useful- 
ness, as  there  are  now,  and  never  such  incentives 
to  it.  The  world  is  in  movement,  and  so  is  the 
church.  The  age  of  stagnancy  is  past,  the  era  of 
general  action  is  come.  The  armies  of  good  and 
evil  are  marching  to  the  scene  of  conflict,  and 
mustering  in  the  valley  of  decision.  The  gospel 
trumpet  is  blowing,  and  calling  on  the  hosts  of  the 
Lord  to  the  battle,  which  is  to  rescue  a  world  from 
the  slavery  of  sin  and  Satan,  and  restore  it  to  God. 
Victory  is  certain,  and  the  shout  of  it  will  one  day 
be  heard,  ascending  to  heaven  from  this  regenera- 
ted earth.  Will  you  be  idle  ?  What !  at  such  a 
time  ?  Will  you  have  no  share  in  such  a  triumph  ? 
But  this  is  not  all.  Will  you  be  in  the  routed 
army,  and  belong  to  the  discomfited  foe,  which  you 
must  be  if  you  are  not  pious  ?  The  cause  of  reli- 
gion is  but  one,  and  all  the  pious  belong  to  it  ;  and 
the  cause  of  sin  is  but  one,  and  all  the  irreligious 
are  identified  with  it.  Religion  is  destined  to  vic- 
tory over  all  the  earth,  and  every  true  Christian 
does  something  to  accelerate  the  triumph,  and  will 
share  the  honour  of  the  glorious  conquest. 

What,  then,  is  a  life  of  sin,  of  worldly  pleasure, 
of  gay  dissipation,  compared  with  a  life  of  religion ! 
What  a  contrast  in  their  nature,  and  oh  what  a 
contrast  in  their  results !  The  former,  is  the  course 
of  a  demon,  the  latter  of  a  ministering  angel;  and 


USEFULNESS.  151 

while  the  former  shall  eat  the  fruit  of  its  doings 
for  ever  in  the  pit  of  destruction,  the  latter  shall 
gather  its  everlasting  reward  from  the  tree  of  life 
in  the  paradise  of  God. 


152  RELIGION  A  PREPARATION. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

RELIGION  CONSIDERED  AS  A  PREPARATION  FOR  SUPER- 
INTENDING A  HOME  OF  YOUR  OWN  UPON  EARTH, 
AND  FOR  GOING  TO  AN  ETERNAL  HOME  IN  HEAVEN. 

You  are  preparing,  in  your  present  situation,  to 
act  the  part  to  which  Providence  may  have  des- 
tined you  upon  earth ;  and  it  is  every  way  proba- 
ble, according  to  the  natural  course  of  events,  that 
in  a  few  years  you  will  be  found  at  the  head  of  a 
household  of  your  own.  This  opens  to  you  not 
only  an  interesting  scene,  but  also  an  important 
and  very  responsible  one.  From  the  nature  and 
constitution  of  society,  the  destiny  of  one  genera- 
tion is  powerfully  affected  by  the  conduct  of  that 
which  precedes  it.  The  husband  influences  the 
wife,  the  father  the  child,  and  the  master  the  ser- 
vant; consequently,  of  how  much  moment  is  the 
character  of  the  head  of  a  family !  How  many 
households  are  scenes  of  discord  and  wretchedness, 
and  are  at  length  reduced  to  poverty  and  ruin,  by 
a  drunken,  or  pleasure-loving,  or  idle  father !  How 
many  who  enter  life  with  the  fairest  prospects  of 
comfort  and  success,  throw  all  away  by  sin !  They 
draw  some  lovely  and  virtuous  young  woman  into 
the  companionship  of  life  with  them,  see  a  family 
rising  around,  and  are  bound  by  every  tie  of  justice 
and  honour  to  provide  for  the  comfort  of  their 


RELIGION  A  PREPARATION.  153 

wife,  and  the  prosperity  of  their  children;  but 
habits  of  indolence  and  extravagance  had  been  ac- 
quired in  youth,  and  all  goes  wrong  till  ruin  drives 
them  from  that  home,  .which  industry  and  sobriety 
would  have  enabled  them  to  maintain ;  at  length 
the  wife  dies  of  a  broken  heart,  and  the  children 
become  vagrants  in  the  world.  Religion  would 
have  prevented  all  this,  and  preserved  that  home 
to  be  a  scene  of  order,  peace,  plenty,  and  respecta- 
bility. 

But  even  where  things  do  not  reach  this  point, 
and  there  is  neither  vice  nor  want,  but  sober  mor- 
als and  success,  still,  think  of  a  family  without  re- 
ligion— an  atheistic  household,  in  which  there  is 
no  worship,  no  instruction,  no  regard  to  eternity — • 
a  mere  temporal  confederation,  though  still  follow- 
ed with  eternal  consequences.  For  the  souls  of 
their  children  and  servants,  every  father  and 
mother  is  answerable  to  God ;  and  oh  what  an  ac- 
count will  irreligious  ones  have  to  render  to  him 
at  the  day  of  judgment !  What  an  eternity  will 
such  parents  have  to  spend  in  the  bottomless  pit, 
with  those  children  whose  souls  sank  thither 
through  their  guilty  neglect ! 

Religion  will  fit  you  to  preside  with  dignity  over 
your  household:  it  will  add  the  sanctity  of  the 
Christian  to  the  authority  of  the  parent  and  the 
master,  and  render  obedience,  on  the  part  of  your 
children  and  servants,  more  pleasant  and  easy,  as 
given  to  one  who  has  such  high  claims  to  it.  How 
will  your  family  prayers  tend  to  keep  up  in  all 


154  RELIGION  A  PREPARATION. 

other  respects  family  order !  Piety  will  strengthen 
and  soften  every  domestic  tie,  as  well  as  consecrate 
every  domestic  occupation.  It  will  lighten  the 
cares  of  business,  brighten  the  scenes  of  prosperity, 
and  yield  consolation  in  the  dark  season  of  family 
sorrow.  If  called  to  leave  your  wife  and  family, 
it  will  mitigate  the  pang  of  separation  by  the  pros- 
pect of  eternal  union  in  a  world  where  death  has 
no  power :  or  if  required  to  surrender  a  pious  wife 
or  children,  it  will  prevent  the  sting  of  that  sorrow 
which  has  no  hope.  What  a  bliss  then  to  a 
family,  what  a  benign  and  heavenly  inmate,  is  sin- 
cere, consistent  eminent  religion,  as  it  shines  forth 
in  the  form  and  character  of  a  godly  father  and 
master. 

And  now,  young  man,  let  me  entreat  you  to 
consider  what  is  the  true  character  of  your  present 
life,  viewed  in  relation  to  the  life  that  is  to  come. 
Are  you  now  at  home,  01  are  you  away  from 
home  ?  Let  the  poet  answer. 

"  Strangers  into  life  we  come, 
And  dying  is  but  going  home." 

This  world  is  not  our  home,  and  unhappy  is  the 
man  who  makes  it  such.  HEAVEN  is  THE  HOME 
OF  IMMORTAL  MAN.  During  the  whole  time  we 
are  upon  earth, we  are  away  from  home;  and 
away  from  it,  that  we  may  prepare,  like  a  child  at 
school  or  a  youth  in  his  apprenticeship,  to  go  at 
length  finally  and  fully,  to  possess  and  enjoy  it. 
This  is  not  your  rest.  How  short  and  uncertain 


RELIGION  A  PREI  ^RATION.  155 

is  your  continuance  upon  earth  !  You  cannot  re- 
main many  years,  you  may  not  remain  one ;  for 
what  is  your  life  but  "  a  vapour,  that  appeareth 
for  a  little  time,  and  then  vanisheth  away  ?"  At 
a  moment's  notice  you  may  depart.  A  flash  of 
lightning,  a  stroke  of  apoplexy,  a  ruptured  blood^ 
vessel,  the  overturn  of  a  boat  or  a  carriage,  may 
plunge  you  suddenly  into  eternity.  You  are  sus- 
pended over  that  vast  gulf  by  the  brittle  thread 
of  human  life.  Instead  of  living  to  old  age,  you 
may  not  live  to  be  of  age ;  instead  of  living  to  be 
a  master,  you  may  die  before  your  apprenticeship 
is  finished.  Place  your  ringer  on  your  pulse,  and 
say,  "If  this  stop  but  a  second,  and  any  second  it 
may  stop,  I  am  instantly  in  heaven  or  hell."  Can 
you  call  this  home  ?  Ought  you  to  feel  at  home 
here?  Should  you  wish  to  consider  this  your 
home?  For  what  a  home  is  it,  but  such  a  one 
as  he  had  whose  dwelling  was  among  the  tombs  ? 
Home !  What !  would  you  desire  it  to  be  such, 
where  there  is  so  much  to  disturb,  distress,  and 
annoy?  No.  God  has  provided  some  better 
thing  for  us :  heaven,  I  repeat,  is  the  home  of  im- 
mortal man. 

Think  what  heaven  is,  and  how  long  it  lasts. 
Heaven  is  the  habitation  of  Jehovah,  the  dwelling- 
place  of  God,  the  palace  of  the  King  eternal,  im- 
mortal, invisible.  Heaven  is  the  residence  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  where  he  displays 
the  glory  which  he  had  with  the  Father  before  th.9 
world  was.  Heaven  is  the  house  of  many  man- 


156  RELIGION  A  PREPAFwATION 

sions,  inhabited  by  cherubim  and  seraphim,  the 
innumerable  company  of  angels,  and  the  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect.  Heaven  is  the  world 
without  sin,  curse,  death,  or  sorrow.  Heaven  is 
the  state  of  perfect  knowledge,  holiness,  love,  and 
happiness.  And  it  is  everlasting.  Our  Lord  calls 
it,  eternal  life.  The  apostle  describes  it  as  a  house 
not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  h  eavens.  What 
a  home  !  This  for  man !  Can  it  be  ?  Is  it  a 
splendid  vision  only?  No.  It  is  a  glorious  real- 
ity. It  is  this,  which  Christ  died  to  obtain  for  his 
people.  It  is  this,  which  the  Scriptures  were 
written  to  reveal.  It  is  this,  to  which  the  hope 
of  the  pious  in  every  age  has  aspired ;  and  the 
prospect  of  which  has  cheered  them  amidst  all 
the  sorrows  of  life.  "  Two  more  stiles,"  said  the 
martyr,  as  he  walked  across  the  fields  to  the 
place  of  execution,  "  and  I  shall  be  at  home,  at 
my  Father's  house."  "  I  am  going  home,"  is  the 
common  and  joyful  exclamation  of  many  dying 
Christians.  And  what  a  home !  The  home,  of 
saints,  of  martyrs,  of  angels,  of  Christ,  of  God ! 

What  is  the  preparation  for  such  a  home?  Re- 
ligion :  nothing  but  religion.  This  home  is  a  holy 
one.  Heaven  is  in  fact  the  home  of  religion  itself: 
for  here  it  is  only  in  a  wayfaring,  pilgrimage  state. 
Religion  is  a  heavenly  visitant  upon  earth,  travel- 
ling back  to  her  native  skies,  and  will  never  be  at 
rest  till  she  finds  herself  in  the  presence  of  God 
her  Divine  Parent.  Nothing,  therefore,  but  reli- 
gion, can  prepare  a  soul  for  heaven.  You  may 


RELIGION  A  PREPARATION.  157 

have  a  good  knowledge  of  the  arts ;  you  may  have 
a  competent,  or  even  profound  acquaintance  with 
learning  and  science ;  you  may  have  talents  of  a 
public  order,  that  fit  you  for  action  and  for  influ- 
ence among  your  fellow  men;  but  what  have 
these  things  to  do  with  preparation  for  heaven  ? 
What  reference  have  they  to  the  eternal  state  ? 
Nothing  but  holiness  will  prepare  us  for  a  holy 
heaven.  Would  a  knowledge  of  trade,  agricul- 
ture, or  science,  prepare  any  one,  without  the 
knowledge  and  manners  of  a  courtier,  to  dwell  at 
court?  How  much  less  in  heaven!  No,  it  is 
sincere,  experimental  piety  alone,  that  can  prepare 
us  to  enter  into  the  presence  of  God.  The  heav- 
enly character  must  be  acquired  on  earth,  or  it  can 
never  be  acquired  at  all.  Begin  then  at  once.  It 
is  a  preparation  for  eternity,  and  who  can  com- 
mence such  a  work  too  early  ?  You  may  have 
but  little  time  allotted  for  this  transcendently  mo- 
mentous affair,  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to 
do,  do  it  with  thy  might ;  for  there  is  no  work, 
nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom,  in  the 
grave,  whither  thou  goest."  Live  for  eternity ; 
live  for  heaven :  and  the  only  way  to  do  this,  is  to 
live  by  faith.  Once  in  heaven,  you  will  never 
leave  it.  There  will  be  no  going  out  for  ever. 
You  will  quit  your  Father's  house  no  more.  The 
celestial  family  will  never  break  up.  Once  at 
home  there,  you  will  be  at  home  for  ever. 

But  neglect  religion,  and  you  can  never  be  ad- 
mitted to  the  regions  of  immortality.     Your  pa- 
14 


158  RELIGION  A  PREPARATION. 

rents  may  be  there,  but  you  will  be  excluded  and 
shut  up  in  outer  darkness.  I  can  imagine  you  in 
the  day  of  judgment,  pressing  to  lay  hold  upon 
the  hand  of  your  father,  but  he  turns  from  you  as 
from  an  object  of  disgust,  exclaiming,  "Your 
father  no  longer."  You  then  direct  an  imploring 
eye  to  the  mother  that  bore  you,  and  laying  hold 
on  her  robe  piteously  exclaim,  "  My  mother,  do 
you  not  know  me  ?"  Gathering  up  her  garment 
of  light,  she  shakes  you  off,  with  the  dreadful  dis- 
ownment,  "  I  know  not  the  enemies  of  my  Lord.'1 
They  pass  to  the  right  hand  of  the  Judge,  while 
you,  by  a  power  you  cannot  resist,  are  sent  to  the 
left — and  what  remains  ?  You  will  present  from 
that  day,  the  melancholy  spectacle  of  an  outcast 
from  heaven,  a  homeless  immortal,  a  vagrant  in  the 
universe,  a  wretched  wanderer  through  eternity. 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  159 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

SEVERAL    CLASSES     OF   YOUNG    MEN    SPECIALLY    AD- 
DRESSED— THE    TRAVELLER   BY     SEA     OR    LAND 

THE   ORPHAN — THE  PRODIGAL — THE   PIOUS  YOUTH. 

I  SELECT  as  the  first  whom  I  particularize,  those 
who  have  left  or  are  soon  to  leave  their  native 
country,  whether  for  a  permanent  residence  abroad, 
or  only  for  a  season.  Numerous  and  very  different 
are  the  causes  which  lead  to  this  temporary  or 
lasting  expatriation.  In  some  cases,  it  is  a  mere 
curiosity  to  see  the  world ;  in  others  a  restless,  dis- 
satisfied, and  indolent  disposition ;  in  others  a  still 
worse  cause ;  while  in  some  it  is  a  step  to  which 
they  are  called  by  the  plans  of  Providence,  and 
which  circumstances  render,  if  not  absolutely  ne- 
cessary, yet  every  way  proper.  Whatever  may 
lead  to  it,  however,  it  is  always  a  course  of  dan- 
ger, and  sometimes  of  sorrow.  That  young  man 
who  can  step  from  his  native  shores  into  the  ves- 
sel which  is  to  bear  him  to  a  distant  part  of  the 
earth;  who  can  see  the  land  of  his  nativity  recede 
from  his  view,  till  its  spires,  hills,  and  cliffs  are 
lost  amidst  the  mighty  waste  of  waters  ;  who  can 
utter  his  adieu  to  the  friends,  and  scenes  of  his 
childhood  which  he  very  probably  may  never 
revisit ;  who  can  forget  the  perils  of  the  sea,  and 
the  danger  of  tropical  climates,  which  he  is  about 


160  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

to  encounter, — and  all  this  without  some  degree 
of  heart-sickness,  or  at  least,  evident  sadness — 
must  have  a  heart  too  cold  and  too  hard  to  be  at 
present  the  residence  of  piety  and  virtue,  and 
affords  little  hope  for  the  future.  Insensibility 
under  such  circumstances  marks  a  callous  mind ; 
while  sadness  and  even  sorrow  are  an  honour,  and 
not  a  weakness,  to  the  youth  who  rather  weeps 
than  utters  his  last  adieu. 

If  it  be  a  bad  cause  that  takes  you  to  sea,  you 
will  have  time  for  reflection  upon  the  voyage. 
Use  it  well.  As  you  pace  the  deck  at  night, 
keeping  your  watch,  with  the  moon  and  the  stars 
speaking  silently  to  you  of  God,  think  of  your 
course,  meditate  upon  your  conduct ;  give  con- 
science leave  and  time  to  speak,  and  listen  to  its 
voice.  Imagine  you  see  a  mother's  form  lighting 
on  the  deck,  pointing  to  heaven,  and  saying  as  she 
smiles  through  her  tears,  "  Repent,  my  son,  re- 
pent, and  come  back  to  us  reclaimed :  we  wait  to 
receive  you  to  our  arms,  and  to  our  hearts." 
Hear  that  gentle  voice  coming  to  your  ears  when 
nothing  else  is  heard  but  the  whistling  of  the  wind, 
the  dashing  of  the  waves,  and  the  creaking  of  the 
masts  and  rigging.  Many  a  youth  in  those  sol- 
emn moments  has  considered  his  evil  ways,  and 
turned  from  them  to  God.  Cut  off  from  many 
temptations  and  companions  which  beset  him  on 
shore,  he  has  had  wisdom  given  him  to  be  sorry 
for  the  course  he  ran,  has  resolved  to  forsake  it, 
and  has  returned  home  when  the  voyage  was 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  161 

over,  to  heal  by  his  good  conduct  the  wounds  he 
inflicted  by  his  untoward  behaviour  in  the  hearts 
of  his  parents. 

But  if  these  scenes  are  not  enough  to  awaken 
reflection,  and  to  startle  conscience  from  her  slum- 
ber, may  I  hope  that  the  roar  of  the  tempest  will 
do  it  ?  Then,  when  the  vessel,  with  her  sails 
torn,  her  masts  injured,  or  gone  by  the  board,  is 
driving  before  the  fury  of  the  gale,  on  a  rocky  and 
lee  shore,  and  the  horrors  of  shipwreck  and  a 
grave  among  the  monsters  of  the  deep  are  before 
you,  then  think  of  your  ways,  then  look  back  upon 
your  wicked  career,  and  cry  to  God  for  mercy 
through  Christ :  if  you  perish  at  sea,  perish  be- 
seeching for  pardon  through  the  blood  of  the 
Lamb ;  or  if  you  survive  the  storm,  let  its  perils 
never  be  forgotten,  nor  the  purposes  and  good  res- 
olutions which  in  the  hour  of  danger  it  led  you  to 
form.  Do  not  smile  at  your  fears  and  remorse,  as 
some  unhappy  youths  do,  when  you  find  that  the 
vessel  has  outlived  the  tempest,  and  you  are  safe. 

The  moral  dangers  of  foreign  travel  are  most 
imminent.  You  are  then  not  only  more  than  ever, 
and  farther  than  ever,  removed  from  parental  in- 
spection and  restraint,  but  you  are  removed  also 
from  the  control  of  friends  and  of  public  opinion. 
You  will  have  an  opportunity,  if  you  choose  to 
embrace  it,  for  gratifying  to  the  greatest  excess 
every  youthful  passion  and  every  criminal  appe- 
tite ;  and  multitudes  are  swept  into  an  early  grave 
abroad  in  consequence  of  their  enormous  lusts,  or 
14* 


162  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

else  become  con  firmed  for  ever  in  habits  of  immor- 
ality. Read  with  attention  the  following  impres- 
sive fact. 

The  motives  which  lead  young  men  to  sea  are 
rarely  laudable,  and  often  criminal,  as  the  follow- 
ing fact  will  prove : — 

Two  young  men,  the  children  of  pious  and 
wealthy  parents,  felt  themselves  exceedingly  dis- 
pleased at  being  constantly  refused  the  family  car- 
riage on  the  Lord's  day.  It  was  in  vain  they  urged 
their  confinement  during  the  week,  as  a  sufficient 
reason  why  they  should  be  thus  indulged  on  the 
Sunday.  It  was  the  father's  settled  rule,  that  the 
authority  which  commanded  him  to  rest,  included 
also  his  servants  and  cattle ;  he  therefore  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  their  entreaties  and  remonstrances.  In 
their  madness,  or  in  their  folly,  they  determined  to 
resent  this  refusal,  by  leaving  their  situations  and 
going  to  sea.  Intelligence  of  this  step  was  trans- 
mitted to  the  Rev.  John  Griffin,  of  Portsea,  and  he 
was  requested  to  make  diligent  inquiry,  and  on 
finding  them  to  use  every  possible  means  to  induce 
them  to  return  home.  After  some  search,  he  found 
them  in  a  rendezvous  house,  and  introducing  him- 
self, he  stated  his  business,  and  urged  their  return. 
He,  however,  urged  in  vain ;  for,  bent  upon  the 
fulfilment  of  their  design,  they  thanked  him  for  his 
advice,  although  determined  to  reject  it.  Among 
other  reasons  for  their  return,  he  urged  the  feel- 
ings of  their  parents  and  especially  those  of  their 
mother.  "Think,"  said  the  good  man,  "what 


SPECIAL   ADDRESSES.  163 

must  your  mother's  situation  be,  after  years  of 
anxious  watching  and  fervent  prayer ;  after  looking 
forward  to  this  time,  when  in  your  society  and  in 
your  welfare  she  hoped  to  meet  a  rich  reward  for 
all  that  she  had  suffered  on  your  account :  yet  in 
one  moment,  and  by  one  imprudent  step,  she  finda 
you  plunged  into  misery,  the  depths  of  which  you 
cannot  conceive  of,  and  herself  the  subject  of  a 
wretchedness   she   has  never  deserved   at  your 
hands."    In  the  heart  of  the  youngest  there  was 
a  sense  of  gratitude,  which  answered  to  this  Sp- 
peal;  and  bursting  into  tears,  he  expressed  his 
sorrow  for  his  conduct,  and  his  willingness   to 
return.     Still,  the  eldest  remained  obdurate.    Nei- 
ther arguments    persuaded    him,  nor  warnings 
alarmed  him.     The  carriage  had  been  repeatedly 
refused ;  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  sea, 
and  to  sea  he  would  go.     "  Then,"  said  Mr.  Grif- 
fin, "  come  with  me  to  my  house ;  I  will  get  you 
a  ship,  and  you  shall  go  out  as  a  man  and  a  gen- 
tleman."   This  he  declined,  assigning  as  a  reason, 
that  it  would  make  his  parents  grieve,  to  have  it  said 
that  their  son  was  gone  as  a  common  sailor ;  as  a 
common  sailor,  therefore,  he  would  go.     "  Is  that 
your  disposition  ?"  was  the  reply.     "  Then,  young 
man,  go,"  said  Mr.  Griffin,  "  and  while  I  say,  God 
go  with  you,  be  sure  your  sin  will  find  you  out,  and 
for  it  God  will  bring  you  into  judgment."    With 
reluctance,  they  left  him ;  the  younger  son  was 
restored  to  his  parents,  while  all  traces  of  the  elder 
one  were  lost,  and  he  was  mourned  for,  as  one  dead. 


164  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  considerable  time,  a  loud 
knocking  was  heard  at  Mr.  Griffin's  door.  This 
was  early  in  the  morning.  On  the  servant's  going 
down  to  open  the  door,  she  found  a  waterman,  who 
wished  immediately  to  see  her  master.  Mr.  Griffin 
soon  appeared,  and  was  informed  that  a  young  man 
under  sentence  of  death,  and  about  to  be  executed 
on  board  one  of  the  ships  in  the  harbour,  had  ex- 
pressed an  earnest  desire  to  see  him;  urging,  among 
other  reasons,  he  could  not  die  happy  unless  he  did. 
A  short  time  found  the  minister  of  religion  on 
board  the  ship,  when  the  prisoner,  manacled  and 
guarded,  was  introduced  to  him,  to  whom  he  said, 
"  My  poor  friend,  I  feel  for  your  condition,  but  as 
I  am  a  stranger  to  you,  may  I  ask  why  you  have 
sent  for  me ;  it  may  be  that  you  have  heard  me 
preach  at  Portsea."  "Never,  sir.  Do  you  not 
know  me  ?"  "  I  do  not."  "  Do  you  not  remem- 
ber the  two  young  men  whom  you,  some  years 
since,  urged  to  return  to  their  parents  and  to  their 
duty  ?"  "  I  do  !  I  do  remember  it ;  and  I  remem- 
ber that  you  were  one  of  them."  "  I  have  sent, 
then,  for  you  to  take  my  last  farewell  of  you  in. 
this  world,  and  to  bless  you  for  your  efforts  to  re- 
store me  to  a  sense  of  my  duty.  Would  God 
that  I  had  taken  your  advice  ;  but  it  is  now  too 
late.  My  sin  HAS  found  me  out,  and  for  it  God 
HAS  brought  me  into  judgment.  One,  and  but 
one  consolation  remains:  I  refused  the  offer  of 
going  to  your  house  until  I  could  be  provided  for, 
assigning  as  a  reason,  that  it  would  make  my 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  1G5 

parents  unhappy  to  have  it  said  their  son  was  a 
common  sailor.  A  little  reflection  showed  me 
the  cruelty  of  this  determination ;  I  assumed  an- 
other name,  under  which  I  entered  myself;  and 
my  chief  consolation  is,  that  I  shall  die  unpitied 
and  unknown." 

What  the  feelings  of  Mr.  Griffin  were  at  this 
sad  discovery  may  be  more  easily  conceived  than 
described.  He  spent  some  time  with  him  in 
prayer,  and  offered  him  that  advice  which  was 
best  suited  to  his  unhappy  case.  The  prisoner 
was  again  placed  in  confinement,  and  Mr.  Griffin 
remained  with  the  officer  who  was  then  on  duty. 
"  Can  nothing  be  done  for  this  poor  young  man?" 
was  one  of  the  first  inquiries  made  after  the  pris- 
oner was  withdrawn.  "  I  fear  not,"  replied  the 
officer;  u  the  lords  of  the  admiralty  have  deter- 
mined to  make  an  example  of  the  first  offender  in 
this  particular  crime.  He  unfortunately  is  that 
offender;  and  we  hourly  expect  the  warrant  for 
his  execution.  Mr.  Griffin  determined  to  go  im- 
mediately to  London,  and,  in  humble  dependance 
upon  the  Lord,  to  make  every  effort  to  save  the 
criminal's  life,  or  to  obtain  a  commutation  of  the 
sentence.  It  was  his  lot,  on  the  day  of  his  arrival 
in  the  metropolis,  to  obtain  an  interview  with  one 
of  the  lords  of  the  admiralty,  to  whom  he  stated 
the  respectability  of  the  young  man's  connexions, 
his  bitter  and  unfeigned  regret  for  the  crime  which 
had  forfeited  his  life;  and,  with  that  earnestness 
which  the  value  of  life  is  calculated  to  excite, 


166  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

ventured  to  ask,  if  it  was  impossible  to  spare 
him.  To  his  regret,  he  was  informed  that  the 
warrant  for  his  execution  had  been  that  morning 
signed,  and  was  on  its  way  to  the  officer  whose 
melancholy  duty  it  was  to  see  it  executed.  With 
compassion  the  nobleman  said,  "  Go  back,  sir,  and 
prepare  him  for  the  worst.  I  cannot  tell  what  is 
to  be  done  ;  but  we  are  shortly  to  meet  His 
Majesty  in  council,  and  all  that  you  have  urged 
shall  be  then  stated:  may  it  prove  successful." 
Mr.  Griffin  returned,  but  discovered  that  the  morn- 
ing of  his  reaching  home  was  the  time  appointed 
for  the  young  man's  execution.  Joy,  and  fear,  and 
anxiety,  by  turns,  possessed  his  mind,  as,  within  a 
few  minutes  after  his  arrival,  came  a  pardon,  ac- 
companied with  the  most  earnest  request  to  go 
immediately  on  board,  lest  the  sentence  of  the 
law  should  be  executed  before  he  could  reach  the 
ship. 

Upon  the  issues  of  a  moment  now  rested  the 
life  of  a  fellow-creature,  and  perhaps  the  salvation 
of  an  immortal  soul.  The  minister  reached  the 
harbour,  and  saw  the  yellow  flag,  the  signal  of 
death,  flying,'  the  rigging  manned,  and,  for  aught 
he  knew  to  the  contrary,  the  object  of  his  solici- 
tude at  the  last  moment  of  his  mortal  existence. 
He  reached  the  ship's  side,  and  saw  an  aged  man 
leaving  it,  whose  sighs,  and  groans,  and  tears,  pro- 
claimed a  heart  bursting  with  grief,  and  a  soul 
deeper  in  misery  than  the  depth  of  the  waters  he 
was  upon.  It  was  the  prisoner's  father  !  Under 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  167 

the  assumed  name,  he  had  discovered  his  wretch- 
ed son,  and  had  been  to  take  his  last  farewell  of 
him.  Yes,  it  was  the  father  who  had  brought 
him  up  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord  ;  who  in  his  earli- 
est days  had  led  him  to  the  house  of  God ;  and 
who,  when  lost,  had  often  inquired  in  prayer, 
"  Lord,  where  is  my  child  ?"  Fearfully  was  he 
answered  ;  he  had  found  him,  but  it  was  to  part, 
never  in  this  world  to  meet  again.  Such,  at  least, 
must  have  been  his  conclusions  in  that  moment, 
when,  having  torn  himself  from  the  embrace  of 
his  son,  he  was  in  the  act  of  leaving  the  ship. 
The  rest  is  told  in  a  few  words :  with  Mr.  Griffin 
he  re-entered  the  vessel  at  the  moment  when  the 
prisoner,  pinioned  for  execution,  was  advancing  to- 
ward the  fatal  spot,  whence  he  was  to  be  sum- 
moned into  the  presence  of  God.  A  moment 
found  him  in  the  embrace,  not  of  death,  but  of 
his  father;  his  immediate  liberation  followed 
the  knowledge  of  his  pardon;  and  a  few  days 
restored  the  wanderer  to  the  bosom  of  his  family. 
The  interesting  nature  of  this  fact  will,  it  is  pre- 
sumed, be  a  sufficient  apology  for  its  length.  It  is 
given  on  the  authority  of  an  individual  who  had 
it  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Griffin  himself,  who  was 
an  eminent  and  much  honored  minister  of  the 
gospel.  It  is  a  fact  replete  with  salutary  warn- 
ing to  all  young  men,  not  to  neglect  the  advice  of 
pious  parents,  nor  to  violate  the  commands  of 
God;  while  at  the  same  time  it  admonishes 
them,  if  unhappily  they  have  done  so,  to  repent 


168  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

of  their  sins,  and  to  alter  their  course,  instead  of 
fleeing  from  restraint  to  the  dangers  of  a  seafaring 
life.  Wherever  they  go,  their  sins  follow  after 
them,  and  sooner  or  later  will  find  them  out.  In 
some  few  cases,  the  fugitive  who  has,  like  Jonah, 
fled  from  duty  to  sea,  has  been  overtaken  by  the 
fearful  visitations  of  the  Almighty,  and  brought  to 
repentance  by  a  mixture  of  judgment  and  mercy; 
but  in  by  far  the  greater  number  of  instances, 
those  who  betake  themselves  to  the  sea,  under  the 
influence  of  indolence,  unsettledness,  or  sin,  be- 
come abandoned  in  character  and  miserable  in 
circumstances. 

There  are  some  who  are  gone,  or  about  to  go 
abroad,  at  the  call  of  duty.  Their  course  of  life 
lies  that  way,  and  they  are  yet  happily  free  from 
vice,  and  even  from  unsteadiness  of  temper.  To 
such  I  would  say,  Leave  not  your  native  land  with- 
out real  and  decided  religion  as  your  companion  m 
travel,  or  if  you  have  left  it  without  this  friend, 
protector,  and  guide,  instantly  seek  its  possession. 
Religion  will  soften  the  pang  of  separation  from 
your  relatives,  will  open  a  source  of  happiness  on 
the  voyage,  and  will  cover  you  with  a  protecting 
shield,  amidst  the  dangers  of  a  foreign  land.  As 
you  travel,  or  as  you  dwell  among  a  strange  peo- 
ple, often  alone  and  without  a  friend  with  whom 
to  converse,  you  will  feel,  and  sadly  feel,  your  for- 
lorn and  desolate  condition :  and  when  the  hour 
of  sickness  comes,  and  you  are  laid  up  with  a  fever 
or  consumption  in  a  land  of  strangers,  0  think  of 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES-  6 

the  long  nights,  and  weary  days  of  restlessness  and 
pain,  with  no  mother,  no  sister  near  to  nurse  and 
comfort  you,  no,  none  but  strangers,  and  they  per- 
haps speaking  a  language  you  do  not  understand  !— 
will  not  religion  be  needed  then?  Would  not  reli- 
gion soothe  you  then  ?  Yes,  it  would  be  your  nurse, 
your  friend,  your  comforter,  your  support.  How 
many,  in  scenes  like  these,  have  taken  up  the 
words  which  the  poet  has  put  into  the  lips  of  Al- 
exander Selkirk,  in  his  solitude  on  the  island  of 
Juan  Fernandez : — 

"  My  friends,  do  they  now  and  then  send, 

A  wish  or  a  thought  after  me  1 
0  tell  me  I  yet  have  a  friend, 

Though  a  friend  I  am  never  to  see. 

41  How  fleet  is  a  glance  of  the  mind  ! 

Compared  with  the  speed  of  its  flight, 
The  tempest  itself  lags  behind, 

And  the  swift  winged  arrows  of  light. 

"  When  I  think  of  my  own  native  land, 

In  a  moment  I  seem  to  be  there  : 
But  alas  !  recollection  at  hand 
Soon  hurries  me  back  to  despair. 

11  But  the  sea-fowl  is  gone  to  her  nest, 
The  beast  is  laid  down  in  his  lair, 
Even  here  is  a  season  of  rest, 
And  I  to  my  cabin  repair. 

*'  There  is  mercy  in  every  place, 

And  mercy,  encouraging  thought  I 
15  " 


170  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

Gives  even  affliction  a  grace, 
And  reconciles  man  to  his  lot. 

4<  Religion  !  what  treasure  untold, 

Resides  in  that  heavenly  word  ! 
More  precious  than  silver  and  gold, 
Or  all  that  this  earth  can  afford." 

And  what  an  exquisite  illustration  of  the  power 
of  religion  to  comfort,  support,  and  animate  the 
mind  in  the  most  forlorn  and  distressing  circum- 
stances, is  to  be  found  in  the  journal  of  that  most 
interesting  traveller,  Mungo  Park.  He  was  in  the 
heart  of  Africa,  alone  and  unprotected.  He  had 
just  been  robbed  and  stripped  by  a  ferocious  ban- 
ditti, and  the  following  is  the  account  he  gives  of 
liis  feelings,  and  his  relief:  "  After  they  were  gone, 
I  sat  for  some  time,  looking  around  me  with 
amazement  and  terror.  Whichever  way  I  turned, 
nothing  appeared  but  danger  and  difficulty.  I  saw 
myself  in  the  midst  of  a  vast  wilderness,  in  the 
depth  of  the  rainy  season,  naked  and  alone,  sur- 
rounded by  savage  animals,  and  men  still  more 
savage.  I  was  five  hundred  miles  from  the  near-* 
est  European  settlement.  All  these  circumstances 
crowded  at  once  on  my  recollection,  and  I  confess 
that  my  spirit  began  to  fail  me.  I  considered  my 
fate  as  certain,  and  that  I  had  no  alternative  but 
to  lie  down  and  perish.  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  RELI- 
GION, however,  aided  and  supported  me.  I  reflected 
that  no  human  prudence  or  foresight  could  possi- 
bly have  averted  my  present  sufferings.  I  was  in- 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  171 

deed  a  stranger  in  a  strange  land,  yet  I  was  still 
under  the  protecting  eye  of  that  Providence  who 
has  condescended  to  call  himself  the  stranger's 
friend.  At  this  moment,  painful  as  my  reflections- 
were,  the  extraordinary  beauty  of  a  small  moss,  in> 
fructification,  irresistibly  caught  my  eye.  I  men- 
tion this  to  show  from  what  trifling  circumstances 
the  mind  will  sometimes  derive  consolation;  for 
though  the  whole  plant  was  not  larger  than  the 
top  of  one  of  my  fingers,  I  could  not  contemplate 
the  delicate  conformation  of  its  roots,  leaves,  and 
capsule,  without  admiration.  Can  that  Being, 
thought  I,  who  planted,  watered,  and  brought  to 
perfection,  in  this  obscure  part  of  the  world,  a 
thing  which  appears  of  so  small  importance,  look 
with  unconcern  upon  the  situation  and  sufferings 
of  creatures  formed  after  his  own  image? — surely 
not !  Reflections  like  these  would  not  allow  me 
to  despair.  I  started  up,  and,  disregarding  both 
hunger  and  fatigue,  travelled  forward,  assured 
that  relief  was  at  hand :  and  I  was  not  disap- 
pointed. In  a  short  time,  I  came  to  a  small  village,, 
at  the  entrance  of  which  I  overtook  the  two  shep- 
herds who  had  come  with  me  from  Koama.  They 
were  much  surprised  to  see  me:  for  they  said, 
they  never  doubted  that  the  Foulahs,  when  they 
had  robbed,  had  murdered  rne." 

What  can  more  beautifully  or  affectingly  prove 
and  illustrate  the  power  of  religion  in  the  most 
trying  circumstances  and  appalling  danger,  than 
this  touching  fact.  Let  me  therefore  entreat  your 


172  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

to  seek  the  same  source  of  consolation.  Not  cnly- 
take  the  Bible  in  your  trunk,  but  its  influence  in 
your  heart.  Cat  off  from  the  means  of  grace,  sur- 
rounded by  Pagan,  Mohammedan,  or  Popish  rites, 
all  of  them  superstitious,  and  some  of  them  pollut- 
ing, you  will  be  in  danger  of  losing  all  sense  of 
piety  when  you  need  it  most.  Fear  God,  and  you 
will  be  safe  and  happy,  wander  or  rest  wherever 
you  may;  for  He  is  there:  reverence  his  presence, 
obey  his  authority,  enjoy  his  favour  and  you  are 
blessed.  You  may  die,  and  leave  your  bones  in  a 
foreign  land ;  but,  as  one  of  the  sages  of  antiquity 
said,  "Every  place  is  equally  near  to  heaven," 


For  you  my  tenderest  sympathies  are  awakened, 
and  my  most  affectionate  anxieties  engaged.  You 
are,  indeed,  away  from  home;  for  you  have  no 
home  but  that  which  you  occupy  as  an  apprentice, 
shopman,  or  clerk.  The  grave  has  closed  over 
your  father  and  mother;  and  that  habitation  once 
the  scene  of  your  childhood,  and  which  you  then 
never  entered  but  with  delight,  is  now  the  resi- 
dence of  strangers.  That  threshold  you  will  never 
cross  again.  A  father's  hand,  a  mother's  smile, 
will  welcome  you  no  more  to  that  abode ;  but  you 
can  never  pass  it  even  now,  without  looking  up  to 
the  chamber  window,  within  which  the  quiet 
nights  of  childhood  were  slept  away  in  compara- 
tive innocence  and  peace,  and  saving  with  a  sigh, 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  173 


tt  My  mother, 


-  Life  has  pass'd 


With  me  but  roughly,  since  I  heard  thee  last.1 " 

Oh !  this  is  a  cold  and  selfish  world.  Those 
who  should  have  loved  and  befriended  you,  if  not 
for  your  own,  yet  for  your  parents'  sakes,  have  for- 
gotten you  ;  and  perhaps,  even  in  the  circle  of  your 
relatives,  you  find  scarcely  any  one  who  interests 
himself  in  your  behalf.  There  was  an  orphan  of 
old,  who  cheered  himself  thus,  "  When  my  father 
and  my  mother  forsake  me,  then  the  Lord  will  take 
me  up."  He  found  it  so,  and  left  his  experience 
upon  record  for  your  encouragement  and  hope. 
Go  to  the  same  God  by  faith,  by  trust,  and  prayer, 
and  seek  his  favour,  his  guardianship  and  guid- 
ance. He  will  be  your  friend,  and  never  forsake 
you.  He  will  be  a  father  to  you,  and  will  never 
be  removed  by  death.  He  styles  himself,  and  it 
is  one  of  his  tenderest  titles,  "  the  Father  of  the 
fatherless.''5  His  friendship  will  be  more  than  a 
compensation  for  all  you  have  lost,  and  he  will 
raise  you  up  other  friends  on  earth.  What  have 
you  lost  in  earthly  parents,  which  cannot  be  more 
than  made  up  in  God  ?  "  What  have  I  lost,"  say 
you,  "  what  have  I  not  lost.  They  were  my 
dearest,  my  kindest,  my  most  valuable  friends : 
their  counsels  guided  me,  their  care  protected  me, 
their  daily  converse  was  the  joy  of  my  life,  their 
sympathy  revived  me,  and  their  bounty  supplied 
my  wai».s.  And  now  they  are  gone,  how  justly 
15* 


174  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

may  I  say,  that  my  dearest  comforts  and  hopes  lie 
buried  with  their  precious  remains."  Well,  but 
cannot  God  counsel  you,  protect  you,  converse  with 
you,  sympathize  with  you,  supply  you,  far  more 
effectually  than  they  did  ?  Your  father  and 
mother  are  dead,  but  God,  your  heavenly  Father, 
can  never  die.  If  you  commit  your  way  to  him, 
by  holy  fear  and  earnest  prayer,  he  will  guide  you 
through  all  the  intricacies  of  life,  protect  you 
amidst  its  dangers,  comfort  you  under  its  sorrows, 
and  conduct  you  safely,  notwithstanding  your 
gloomy  prospects,  through  this  mortal  life,  till 
you  come  at  last  to  your  father's  house  in  peace, 
Seek  to  have  God  for  your  Father,  and  you  will 
never  want  a  friend.  Choose  religion,  and  you 
will  never  want  a  portion.  Unite  yourself  with 
the  church  of  Christ,  and  you  will  never  want  a 
home. 

But  at  the  same  time,  you  should  be  told  that 
you  can  expect  no  safety  out  from  piety.  Left  at 
an  early  age  without  the  guides  and  guardians  of 
your  youth,  without  the  check  and  restraint  that 
even  a  distant  father,  while  he  lived,  imposed  by 
his  correspondence,  you  will  be  an  object  for 
Satan's  wiles,  and  for  the  arts  of  those  who  lie  in 
wait  to  deceive.  There  are  many  who  date  their 
ruin  from  the  day  of  their  parent's  death,  and  con- 
sider that  event  as  the  commencement  of  their 
downward  career.  Some  to  hush  their  sorrows, 
increased  by  the  selfishness  and  unkindness  of 
friends,  have  plunged  into  dissipation :  while  others 


SPECIAL    ADDRESSES.  175 

who  had  hitheito  felt  a  parent's  admonitions  an 
impediment  to  a  life  of  sin,  have  rushed  into  vice, 
as  soon  as  this  obstacle  was  removed  by  death. 
If  either  of  these  dangers  be  yours,  may  your 
parent's  venerable  shade  appear  to  your  imagina- 
tion, as  troubled  by  your  misconduct,  and  warn 
you  from  a  course  of  sin,  which,  if  persisted  in, 
will  lead  to  destruction.  You  have  lost  them  for 
a  season,  and  will  you  by  sin  lose  them  for  ever. 

PIOUS  YOUNG   MEN. 

You  form  a  happy  and  an  important  class,  if 
not  a  numerous  one.  Receive  my  congratulations 
on  the  rich  and  sovereign  mercy  which  has  called 
you  out  of  darkness,  and  made  you  the  children  of 
light.  Bless  God,  that  while  so  many  are  walking 
according  to  the  course  of  this  world,  and  fulfilling 
the  desires  of  the  flesh,  and  of  the  mind ;  you  are 
walking  in  the  ways  of  Godliness  and  peace.  And 
while  you  are  thankful,  be  humble,  circumspect, 
and  prayerful.  You  are,  and  will  be  exposed  to 
great  and  sore  trials  of  your  steadfastness.  Per- 
haps you  are  placed  in  a  situation,  where  you  find 
not  one  likeminded  with  yourself.  You  alone  are 
"faithful  found  among  the  faithless,"  and  will 
need  great  grace  to  stand  your  ground  against  the 
annoyance,  ridicule,  and  opposition,  with  which 
your  religion  will  be  assailed,  by  a  set  of  gay,  dis- 
sipated, and  irreligious  youths.  It  is  of  vast  im- 
portance, that  you  should  at  once,  and  without 


176  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES^ 

hesitation,  let  it  be  seen  and  known,  that  you  fear 
God.  Let  there  be  no  attempt  to  conceal  your 
principles,  or  your  practices.  Let  those  with 
whom  you  are  to  associate,  know  at  your  first  en- 
trance among  them,  that  you  profess  to  regard  the 
claims  of  religion.  If  you  begin  by  concealing 
your  principles,  it  will  be  extremely  difficult  to 
exhibit  them  afterward,  and  thus  your  life  will 
be  wretched  under  the  stings  of  conscience  re- 
proaching you  for  cowardice,  and  the  dread  of  open 
avowal.  Moreover,  you  will  often  be  obliged,  or 
tempted,  at  any  rate,  in  order  to  keep  up  the  delu- 
sion, to  do  things  which  you  know  to  be  wrong, 
and  thus  bring  much  remorse  into  your  bosom. 
Remember  who  has  said,  "  Whosoever  shall  be 
ashamed  of  me  and  of  my  words,  in  this  adulterous 
and  sinful  generation,  of  him  also  shall  the  Son  of 
man  be  ashamed,  when  he  com  eth  in  the  glory  of 
his  Father  with  the  holy  angels."  Pray  much  and 
pray  earnestly,  and  believingly,  for  MORAL  COUR- 
AGE. Entreat  of  God  to  be  with  you.  Beseech  him 
to  stand  by  you,  and  uphold  you  with  a  strength 
greater  than  your  own.  You  will  be  in  imminent 
peril  without  great  wa tchfulness.  Every  ingenious 
art  and  device  will  be  tried  to  shake  your  con- 
stancy. The  licentious  or  sceptical  work  will 
often  be  placed  in  yoar  way.  You  will  be 
besieged,  and  if  the  smallest  breach  be  made,  in 
even  the  outworks  of  your  character,  the  advan- 
tage will  be  plied  against  you  till  the  whole  is 
carried  by  storm,  or  capitulation.  The  first  temp- 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  177 

tation  presented  by  your  companions  will  be  to 
small  offences,  to  matters  of  doubtful  or  debateable 
propriety,  and  if  these  succeed,  they  will  become 
more  bold.  Steel  your  heart  against  ridicule. 
Betray  no  irritability.  Bear  all  with  dignified 
meekness.  Petulance  will  only  provoke  to  greater 
annoyance.  Forbearance  on  your  part,  will  be 
most  likely  to  induce  them  to  desist.  They  will 
•soon  feel  that  it  is  useless  to  laugh  at  a  man,  who 
accounts  their  scorn  his  praise,  and  who  glories  in 
their  reproach  as  his  honour ;  and  they  will  at 
length  respect  that  firmness  of  mind,  strength  of 
principle,  and  heroism  of  character,  which  their 
assaults  can  neither  break  nor  bend.  It  will  tend 
much  to  your  defence  and  stability,  by  inspiring 
them  with  respect,  if  you  are  skilful  in  your  busi- 
ness, and  possess  a  well  cultivated  mind.  Strive 
to  be  superior  in  all  that  constitutes  the  clever 
tradesman  or  professional  man,  and  the  man  of 
knowledge.  Convince  them  that  although  reli- 
gion is  the  enemy  of  sin,  it  is  the  friend  of  all  that 
can  benefit  and  adorn  humanity.  Study  well,  and 
deeply,  the  evidences  of  revealed  religion,  and 
make  yourself  intimately  acquainted  with  the 
method  of  meeting  all  the  objections  of  the  popu- 
lar infidelity  of  the  day.  But  especially  be  con- 
sistent. Let  your  piety  be  unvarying  and  uni- 
versal, and  interwoven  with  the  whole  texture  of 
your  character.  It  should  produce,  not  only  the 
fear  of  God,  but  the  love  of  man  :  it  should  blend 
the  .amiable  and  the  devout,  the  cheerful  and  the 


173  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES, 

serious,  the  useful  and  the  happy.     You  should 
seek,  by  the  steady,  consistent  influence  of  exam- 
ple, as  well  as  by  the  occasional  and  well-timed 
persuasion  of  direct  address,  to  reclaim  those  who 
are  gone  astray.      You  should  judiciously,  and 
affectionately,  warn  your  associates,  who  are  seek- 
ing the  pleasures  of  sin,  of  their  danger.   You  may 
be  honoured  to  convert  them  from  the  error  of 
their  ways,  and  save  their  souls  from  death.     It  is 
astonishing  what  small  means  may  sometimes  do 
much  good,  even  when  nothing  is  said,  and  where 
it  is  only  the  power  of  example  that  operates.    As 
a  proof  of  this,  I  will  mention  a  fact  which  I  know 
to  have  occurred  in  the  history  of  a  well-known 
and  successful   minister  of  the  gospel.     At  the 
time  of  leaving  home,  he  was  strictly  moral,  and 
had  some  veneration  for  godliness ;  but  soon  be- 
came careless  and  indifferent.      He   could  not, 
however,  give  up  all  attention  to  the  welfare  oi 
his  soul.     It  was  his  custom  to  retire  to  his  room 
for  prayer  on  Sundays  between  the  public  services 
of  religion;  neglecting  it  at  all  other  times,  and 
being  ashamed  to  pray  in  the  presence  of  his  fel- 
low-apprentice.    Aware  of  the  sinfulness  of  his 
conduct,  and  wanting  the  courage  and  resolution 
to  change,  he   earnestly  and  sincerely  besought 
God  to  raise  up  some  one  in  the  house  to  help  and 
guide  him  in  this  momentous  concern.    After  a 
time,  a  third  apprentice  was  taken  into  the  busi- 
ness.    The  first  night  he  slept  in  the  house,  on 
retiring  to  bed,  he  fell  on  his  knees,  and  continued 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  179 

some  time  in  prayer.  The  effect  of  this  upon  the 
mind  of  the  youth  whose  history  I  am  relating 
was  instantaneous  and  powerful.  It  seemed  to 
him  as  if  a  voice,  in  impressive  accents,  said, 
"  Behold  the  answer  of  your  prayer  :  there  is  the 
individual  sent  to  guide  you  into  the  way  of  true 
religion."  Serious  reflection  followed;  his  con- 
science was  awakened  ;  his  heart  was  interested  ; 
and  decided  piety  was  at  length  the  result.  He 
was  introduced  by  his  companion  to  a  circle  of 
pious  friends,  and  after  a  year  or  two  exchanged 
secular  for  sacred  pursuits,  went  to  college,  he- 
came  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  and  has  been 
greatly  honoured  by  the  usefulness  both  of  his 
preaching  and  his  publications.  And  I  have  heard 
him  say,  that  he  traces  up  all  his  usefulness  to  the 
prayer  of  that  youth,  who  had  the  moral  courage 
to  bend  his  knee  and  acknowledge  God  before  his 
new  companions,  from  whom  he  plainly  saw  he 
should  receive  no  countenance  in  the  habits  of 
piety. 

This  fact  should  be  a  motive  and  an  encourage- 
ment to  those  who  have  any  sense  of  religion 
never  to  conceal  it,  but  to  let  their  light  shine  be- 
fore others,  that  they,  seeing  their  good  works, 
may  glorify  God  their  heavenly  Father. 

PRODIGALS. 

By  such,  I  mean  those  young  men  who  find 
their  picture  drawn  by  the  pencil  of  inspiration  in 
that  most  touching  and  beautiful  of  all  our  Lord's 


180  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES* 

parables,  usually  denominated  the  "  Prodigal 
Son,"  and  which  is  contained  in  Luke  xv.  Oh 
could  I  hope  that  some  of  this  class  will  read 
these  pages,  I  should  entertain  the  further  expec- 
tation that  what  I  now  address  to  them  would  be 
the  means,  under  the  blessing  of  God,  of  conduct- 
ing them  from  the  paths  of  sin  to  those  of  wisdom , 
piety,  and  peace.  You  have  left  your  father's 
house,  because,  perhaps,  you  could  not  endure  its 
rules  and  restraints,  and  have  well  nigh  broken 
your  father's  heart,  after  having  considerably  im- 
poverished his  circumstances  by  your  idleness, 
extravagance,  and  dissipation:  and  you  are  still 
going  on  in  the  career  of  vice  and  destruction. 
Permit  me  to  plead  with  you,  first  on  your  own 
account.  I  need  not  ask  if  you  are  happy  ;  for  it 
is  impossible  you  should  be,  unless  folly,  sin,  and 
shame  can  make  you  so.  Oh  no,  there  are  mo- 
ments when  you  are  awakened  by  reflection  to 
the  horrors  of  your  situation,  and,  under  the  uni- 
ted influence  of  remorse  and  despair,  are  ready  to 
put  an  end,  by  suicide,  to  your  miserable  exist- 
ence. You  have  proved  the  deceitfulness  of  sin, 
which  promised  you  pleasure,  and  has  inflicted 
unutterable  misery.  You  have  found  the  yoke  of 
Satan  to  be  galling  iron  to  your  neck,  instead  of 
the  happy  freedom  under  which  his  service  was 
set  forth  to  captivate  your  youthful  imagination. 
Rise,  deluded,  degraded,  and  half-destroyed  youth, 
against  these  murderous  tyrants,  who  have  brought 
you  to  the  brink  of  the  pit,  but  have  not  yet,  with 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  181 

all  their  artifice  and  cruelty,  thrust  you  info  it. 
You  are  not  yet  irrecoverably  ruined  for  earth, 
nor  inclosed  in  the  prison  of  hell.  Bad  as  you  are, 
there  is  hope  for  you ;  yes,  even  for  you.  Turn, 

0  turn,  from  the  road  that  leadeth  to  destruction. 
Think,  I    beseech   you,  upon  your  parents,  not 
quite,  but  almost  crushed  into  the  grave  by  your 
evil  ways.    It  is  not  yet  too  late  to  restore  their 
peace  of  mind,  so  long  broken  by  your  miscon- 
duct ;  nor  the  elasticity  of  their  frame,  so  heavily 
pressed  down  by  years  of  trouble,  brought  on  by 
your  guilty  wanderings.     "None  but  a  parent's 
heart  can  know  the  anguish  of  parting  with  a 
sweet  babe."    But  there  is  an  agony  deeper  and 
more  inconsolable  than  that.     It  is  occasioned  by 
a  vicious  son.     I  have  seen  one  of  the  tenderest 
and  best  of  mothers  console  her  mind  on  the 
death  of  a  darling  child  by  the  hope  that  it  was 
with  Christ  in  a  better  world.     On  the  same  day 

1  have  seen  another  mother  pour  forth,  from  a 
heart  which  no  consolations  could  reach,  tears  of 
bitterness  over  a  perverse  and  wicked  son,  and 
have  heard  her  say,  "  The  death  of  an  infant  is 
nothing  to  this :  would  that  my  son  had  died  in 
his  infancy !"    Hasten,  hasten,  young  man,  that 
by  your  reformation  you  may  spare  your  mother 
the  anguish  of  saying  with  her  last  breath,  "  I  am 
dying  of  a  broken  heart ;  my  son,  my  wicked  and 
unhappy  son,  has  killed  me.'*    Unless  you  soon 
repent,  and  arise,  and  go  to  your  father,  and  say, 
"Father,  I  have  sinned  against  Heaven,  and  in 

16 


182  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

thy  sight, "  you  will  lie  down  in  the  grave  of  a 
parricide,  and  have  inscribed,  by  the  finger  of 
public  infamy,  upon  your  tomb,  if  a  tomb  shall  be 
given  you,  "  Here  lies  the  murderer  of  his  father 
and  his  mother."  The  last  stab,  however,  is  not 
yet  given  to  them ;  the  dagger  of  your  unkindness, 
and  your  profligacy,  has  not  yet  reached  the  vital 
part,  and  all  the  other  wounds,  if  not  perfectly 
healed,  may  be  mollified  by  your  reformation. 
Yes,  that  venerable  pair  may  yet  say,  if  you  will 
permit  them  to  do  so,  by  your  conversion  to  God,  and 
consequent  holiness,  "  It  is  meet  that  we  should 
make  merry :  for  this  our  son  was  dead,  and  is  alive 
again ;  was  lost,  and  is  found."  Brothers,  who 
had  long  since  disowned  you,  as  far  as  they  could 
do  it,  may  yet  restore  to  you  their  fraternal  love. 
Sisters,  who  once  regarded  you  as  their  joy  and 
boast,  when  they  saw  you  leave  your  father's 
home,  a  fair  and  promising  youth,  but  who,  in 
your  fallen  condition,  could  never  hear  your  name 
pronounced  without  blushes  and  tears,  shall  again, 
if  you  repent,  exclaim  with  throbbing  hearts, 
"My  brother!"  O  prodigal,  return;  return  by 
true  repentance  and  faith  to  God,  your  Father  in 
heaven,  and  in  the  same  state  of  mind  to  your 
father  on  earth.  Both  are  looking  out  for  you ; 
both  will  receive  you  ;  both  will  rejoice  over  you. 
Numerous  instances  might  be  mentioned  to 
awaken  hope,  arid  encourage  this  return.  Do  not 
despair  of  amendment.  Do  not  say  there  is  no 
hope.  None,  not  even  ?/ow,  are  too  bad  to  be  re- 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  183 

claimed.  Read  the  beautiful  parable  to  which  I 
have  already  referred.  What  prodigal  can  wan- 
der farther,  sink  lower,  or  seem  more  out  of  the 
way  of  recovery,  or  more  remote  from  the  region 
of  hope,  than  he  was ;  yet  he  was  restored. 
And  why  was  the  parable  spoken,  and  why  was 
it  written,  but  to  encourage  hope,  in  cases  seem- 
ingly the  most  deplorable  and  abandoned  ? 

I  knew  a  case,  which  is  both  a  salutary  warn- 
ing against  sin,  and  an  encouragement  to  those 
who  have  gone  far  and  long  astray,  to  consider 
that  it  is  never  too  late  to  repent.  One  winter 
evening,  as  I  was  sitting  by  the  fire,  I  heard  a 
knock  at  the  door,  and  the  servant  announced  that 
a  person  in  the  hall  wished  to  speak  to  me.  I 
went  out,  and  found  a  shabby-looking,  dirty, 
squalid  creature,  who,  after  some  apology  for  the 
intrusion,  introduced  himself  as  — - — ,  the  son 

of .     I  had    heard  for  many  years  of  his 

career,  and  lamented  it,  for  his  father's  sake, 
who  was  an  eminent  minister  of  the  gospel,  as 
well  as  for  his  own.  Although  I  had  known  him  in 
his  better  days,  I  did  not  recognise  him  in  his  pro- 
digal appearance.  As  soon  as  he  was  seated  in 
the  dining-room,  and  I  had  the  opportunity  more 
clearly  to  see  his  degradation  and  wretchedness,  I 
burst  into  tears,  and  he  too  was  affected  to  see  that 
the  knowledge  of  his  career  had  not  extinguished 
all  my  sympathy  for  his  misery.  I  relieved  him, 
and  he  departed.  This  youth,  after  being  spoiled 
by  his  mother,  whose  only  child  he  was,  and  who, 


184  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

though  she  erred  in  this  instance,  was  in  most 
others  an  admirable  woman,  became  wayward  at 
home,  and  unsettled  abroad.  He  served  his  time 
with  a  professional  gentleman,  and  at  this  period 
formed  some  bad  associations,  and  contracted  some 
bad  habits,  among  which  was  a  fatal  propensity 
to  drinking.  By  various  plans  formed,  and  broken, 
about  settling  in  business,  he  wasted  all  his  patri- 
mony, and  became  dependent  on  his  friends,  still 
retaining  his  habits  of  idleness  and  drinking.  One 
situation  after  another  was  found  for  him  by  those 
whose  kindness  he  defeated  in  all  their  attempts 
to  serve  him;  till  at  length,  wearied  in  endeavour- 
ing to  serve  a  man  who  would  not  serve  himself, 
they  were  obliged  to  give  him  up.  His  ruin  now 
was  complete.  He  became  a  perfect  vagabond, 
and  roamed  through  the  country,  herding  with  the 
lowest  wretches,  sometimes  begging,  and  resorting 
to  all  kinds  of  methods  to  procure  a  meager  suste- 
nance, and  drag  on  his  miserable  life.  On  one  oc- 
casion, he  called  upon  a  friend  of  his  father's  in 
London,  in  such  a  beggarly,  filthy  condition,  that 
before  he  could  be  admitted  into  the  house  a  tub 
of  water  was  placed  in  an  out-building,  that  he 
might  cleanse  himself,  a  suit  of  old  clothes  was 
given  him,  and  his  rags  instantly  consumed.  Thus 
clothed  and  relieved,  it  was  hoped  he  might  now 
do  better,  according  to  his  promise :  but  in  a  few 
days,  all  was  pawned,  and  he  again  clothed  in 
rags,  that  he  might  drink  with  the  few  shillings 
obtained  as  the  balance  in  this  barter  of  decent  ap- 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  185 

parel  for  that  which  merely  covered  his  limbs. 
Thus  he  went  on,  till  he  had  seen  the  interior  of 
workhouses,  lock-up  houses,  and  prisons.  He  had 
associated  with  the  offscouring  of  society,  had  be- 
come hardened  in  vice,  and  almost  stupified  by 
want  and  wo ;  and,  one  should  suppose,  had  been 
long  lost  to  every  sense  of  decency,  and  every  hope 
or  desire  of  reformation.  Yet,  this  prodigal  of 
prodigals  did  at  last  find  his  way  back  to  his  heav- 
enly Father's  house.  In  his  wanderings,  he  ram- 
bled into  a  town,  where  he  made  himself  known 
to  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  who  felt  an  interest  in 
him  for  his  revered  father's  sake.  This  gentle- 
man, not  discouraged  or  disheartened  by  the  nu- 
merous disappointments  which  had  already  oc- 
curred, took  him  under  his  care,  clothed  him,  and 
procured  him  support.  The  prodigal's  heart  melted 
under  this  distinguished  kindness ;  his  mind  open- 
ed to  religious  instruction ;  and  repentance  toward 
God  and  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  followed. 
He  lived  long  enough  to  make  a  consistent  profes- 
sion of  true  religion,  and  died  in  the  peaceful  hope 
of  that  blessed  world  into  which  "  nothing  enter- 
eth  that  defileth,  or  worketh  abomination,  or 
maketh  a  lie."  His  repentance,  however,  came 
too  late  to  gladden  the  spirit  of  his  mother ;  (his 
father  died  before  his  vicious  course  commenced;) 
her  constitution  was  impaired  by  grief,  and  she 
sank  broken-hearted  to  the  grave.  What  a  meet- 
ing in  the  heavenly  world — who  can  imagine  it? — 
cf  this  hopeless  disappointed,  and  sorrow-stricken 
IS* 


186  SPECIAL  ADDRESSES. 

mother,  and  this  returned  prodigal,  the  source  of 
her  deepest  grief,  and  the  bastener  of  her  death ! 

Prodigal  son,  was  there  ever  a  seemingly  more 
hopeless  case  than  this?  Is  yours  more  hopeless? 
Turn,  then,  from  your  evil  ways.  God's  mercy, 
through  Christ,  is  great  enough  to  pardon  even 
your  sins,  if  you  truly  repent  and  unfeignedly  be- 
lieve in  the  promise  of  salvation.  The  Holy  Spirit 
can  change  even  your  hard  heart,  if  you  wish  to  he 
changed,  and  if  you  pray  in  faith  for  the  grace  that 
is  necessary  to  effect  it. 

If  your  parents  yet  live,  return  to  your  father's 
house,  reformed,  and  do  all  that  can  be  done  to 
heal  the  wounds  of  his  bleeding  heart,  and  to  wipe 
away  the  tears  from  a  mother's  eyes.  Make  them 
yet  rejoice  that  you  are  their  son.  In  the  evening- 
tide  of  their  existence,  let  there  be  light.  Let 
their  gray  hairs  go  down  to  the  grave,  not  in  sor- 
row, but  in  joy ;  and  let  it  be  a  consolation  to  them 
on  their  death-bed,  that  they  have  received  you, 
penitent  and  reformed,  to  their  earthly  home,  and 
hope  to  meet  you,  and  dwell  with  you  for  ever  in 
their  heavenly  mansion.  Or,  if  your  repentance 
comes  too  late  to  stay  their  progress  to  the  tomb, 
or  cheer  their  hearts,  sickened  and  saddened  with 
the  foreboding  that  they  are  parting  from  you  for 
ever,  go  sorrowfully  all  your  days,  at  the  thought 
of  having  shortened  their  existence  by  your  sins  $ 
but  still  comforted  and  sustained  by  the  hope  that 
they  were  among  the  spirits  in  heaven  that  re- 
joiced over  your  repentance,  and  that  they  gave 


SPECIAL  ADDRESSES.  187 

utterance  to  their  joys  among  the  angels  of  God, 
saying,  "  Rejoice  with  us :  for  this  our  son  was 
dead,  and  is  alive ;  was  lost,  and  is  found."  There 
is  a  home  for  all  truly  penitent  prodigals,  in  heaven; 
and  there  is  a  home  for  all  impenitent  ones,  but  it 
is — in  hell. 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


